


Salvation

by sanyumi



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Blasphemy, Christian Upbringing, Coming Out, Connor's dad is strict, M/M, Oliver gives Connor a BJ in a moving vehicle, Pastor's Son!Connor, Riding, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, chapter 7 is HELLA NSFW, feeeeelings~, homophobic parents, light pda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2018-10-10 03:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10428003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanyumi/pseuds/sanyumi
Summary: Oliver shifted in his seat, unable to dissuade an image that shot behind his eyes of sucking that tongue into his own mouth, listening to Connor's muffled moans echo loudly in this great, holy hall. His hands roaming up, pressed against Connor's slim frame and pulling that nice jacket off his shoulders before tearing open the white button down underneath it, latching his mouth over a nipple, growling as Connor cried out his name.Oliver looked down to his lap, squeezing his eyes shut. He was going to hell.[Or, Oliver is visiting his family for the weekend and is forced to go to church with them, where he finds Connor Walsh, sin personified in the form of the pastors son]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to explain this... it was an idea that got away from me, and formed a life of it's own.
> 
> I think I needed this distraction from Chase. Sorry guys, I'm trying my best with that fic but my brain hardly cooperates with me (for example, this little diddy was only supposed to be 4k, tops).
> 
> Enjoy the debauchery!

Oliver took the program that was handed to him, forcing a smile and a nod at the “Welcome back, Oliver!”

He followed his mother, a short, well dressed woman with her jet black hair tied into a loose bun, through the lavish archway into the chapel. Walking down the aisle, past the rows of pews, memories came back to Oliver of early Sunday mornings like this, except he had been a child, small enough to cling to his mother's skirt as she led him to their seat.

As Oliver sat on the wooden surface, shimmying down to make room for his father who was busy chatting away with the pastor, he watched a teenage boy run down the aisle, giggling as he went, before his mother harshly snagged him by the collar of his jacket to sit him and “... for goodness sake, can't you behave?” Oliver remembered his youth to be a little more strict; he wouldn't be caught dead running in church, lest his mother take him to the bathrooms and give him a proper spanking in full view of God.

Now 20, a sophomore in college, Oliver sighed, not even pretending to be interested as he slouched. He was only visiting for the weekend, which Oliver wasn't too fond of doing, the five-hour drive alone daunting enough, but coming home was also a bit of a challenge, though he tried to do it at least once a month for his mother's sake.

Usually his mother respected his wishes to not attend church. This morning Oliver had been rudely awoken at 8am with his bedroom door opening, his light switch beaming on, and his blanket roughly pulled from his body.

That alone gave Oliver flashbacks, making him groan and bite his tongue to refrain from cursing from the sudden chill that ran up his body and the jolt of light stinging his retinas.

“Up, up!” His mother had demanded, waving her arms and clapping her hands. “Today we go to service!”

“Wha-” Oliver blinked until he could see properly.

“Come on, now.” She patted Oliver's shoulder until he rolled over to face her, wiping a hand down his face.

“Mom,” Oliver started, his voice thick with sleep. “I don't go to church anymore, we talked about this...”

Though Oliver's mom was... still his mom, Oliver was a grown ass man who'd moved out and had this talk with her years ago. Why was she suddenly so insisting?

“While you visit my house, eat and sleep under my roof, you go to church!” She answered simply, giving his arm one last pat before leaving the room. “Breakfast is downstairs!”

Oliver groaned again, pulling his pillow out from under him and smushing it over his face. Dad must've gotten to her.

Oliver's dad, an American raised with a Christian faith, had been the sole reason why Oliver wanted to go to a college far away from home. It didn't stop the man from occasionally calling him up, wondering if he was looking for churches in the area, if he'd joined the Christian Fellowship Group on campus, and if he was still reading his bible.

Oliver didn't know how to explain to his father that he refused to integrate himself in a religion that proclaimed he was going to rot for eternity for being attracted to men.

Back in the chapel, Oliver fiddled with a hymnal, flipping from one dusty page to the next. A few people came up to his mother to bid her good morning, ask her how she was, friendly chit chat. Oliver wondered if his smile looked as fake as it felt as his mother gestured to him, introducing him to a new face or forcing him to stand and shake hands with a member of the congregation who he'd remembered from his childhood.

“My, how you've grown!”

 _Heh_ , if only they knew.

Finally his father came along with the pastor in tow. Oliver swallowed his unease, forcing his shoulders back and nodding politely as his father proudly introduced his wife and son. Oliver tuned him out, eyes unfocused as he went on about Oliver's college career and what he studied, noticing the pastor was new, not Rev. Micah, whom Oliver remembered growing up and attending service with every Sunday here.

“I have a son about your age,” the minister went on, capturing Oliver's interest, if only slightly.

Oliver's father nodded approvingly, his mother nudging him with her elbow.

“See! People your age still go to church,” she chastised. Oliver playfully rolled his eyes. He had lamented to his mom a while ago about how finding a new church was difficult because nowadays they were full of old people or kids, never anyone “young adult.”

Although Oliver had just used that as part of his excuse for not attending church anymore. He felt silly at times, still lying to his parents, still trapped in the closet (only at home though). But he knew, _just knew_ , what consequences would unfold if he dared come out to his family.

“Ah, here he is, Connor!” The pastor interrupted himself, beckoning a young man over.

Oliver turned to look and gasped so loudly he almost swallowed his tongue.

Walking up to them was a boy-- a man, probably 18, 19, years old-- dressed in a deliciously fitted navy blue suit, dark hair combed back and a clean shaven jaw like a razor.

Jesus Christ almighty he was gorgeous. Oliver swallowed spit he felt pooling in his mouth, looking back to the hymnal he had an iron grip on, attempting to control his nerves.

“This is my son, Connor.” The pastor introduced, his hand landing over his shoulders. “He's about to graduate high school.”

Oliver peeked up and found Connor staring down at him. The sharp smile he had been wearing as he walked here lowered into something more neutral, surprised, while his eyes reflected obvious interest.

Oliver dimly heard his father say his name and shot his hand out as Connor did, taking each other's hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Hi,” Connor said, his lips quirking up slightly, like he had a secret.

“Hey,” Oliver replied, trying to not sound breathless.

Someone else captured the pastor's attention then, and Oliver dropped Connor's hand as casually as possible, bringing his own back and wringing it out in his lap.

“Connor, why don't you sit with us?” Oliver's mom suggested, causing Oliver to glare daggers at the back of her head.

Connor smiled warmly, the picture of politeness. “Actually, I have assigned seating in the front row; PK privileges.”

Oliver hoped his sigh of relief wasn't obvious. He didn't need this devilishly handsome man sitting next to him, distracting him, making it very hard to banish lewd thoughts from his brain (he was in the house of God, after all).

“Oh well, that's a shame. We'll have to meet up again after church.” She turned to Oliver with a smile.

Oliver tried to send his mother telepathic signals: _“Not helping, not helping!”_

“I look forward to it,” Connor said, voice smooth as he looked right at Oliver.

Oliver could only nod, focusing all his energy on controlling the heat that threatened to flare up his neck and redden his ears.

After bidding the Hampton's well, Connor left to mingle with more people. Oliver tried not to blatantly stare at his back side.

“What a handsome man,” Oliver's mom commented, offhand, to her husband. She turned back to Oliver with that friendly smile and Oliver forced his lips up in a tight smile, nodding once in agreement.

Handsome was an understatement. Too bad Connor was straight.

 

As service went on, Oliver wondered if Connor could feel his eyes at the back of his head, he'd only turned around once, immediately catching Oliver's gaze as if he knew. Oliver had looked away, embarrassed at being caught, but it didn't stop him from flicking his eyes over the entire time.

Then, after music, announcements, more music (see: the organ moaning out loudly while a chorus of old people sang unintelligibly), Oliver watched as Connor moved from his seat to the pulpit on stage, laying his bible down and looking out into the congregation.

He read a passage from the bible, which book Oliver couldn't recall. His focus caught onto the way Connor spoke, how the microphone carried his voice through the cumbrous chapel, bouncing off the old walls and the stain glass windows and into Oliver's ears. Connor read with conviction, passion, enunciating every word and pausing effectively. With such a commanding voice, Oliver had a fleeting thought that Connor could ask him for anything and Oliver would surely oblige, tell Oliver to _do_ anything and he'd obey.

During one deliberate pause, Connor's eyes closed and opened up to Oliver, capturing his attention, refusing to let go. His lips parted and, although Oliver was a couple rows away, he watched as Connor licked the back of his teeth, as if contemplating, letting the word of God sit, before looking back down at the text before him.

That's not how Oliver saw it though. Anyone else watching would have seen it that way, that brief flick of the tongue; just mulling something over. Oliver shifted in his seat, unable to dissuade an image that shot behind his eyes of sucking that tongue into his own mouth, listening to Connor's muffled moans echo loudly in this great, holy hall. His hands roaming up, pressed against Connor's slim frame and pulling that nice jacket off his shoulders before tearing open the white button down underneath it, latching his mouth over a nipple, growling as Connor cried out his name.

Oliver looked down to his lap, squeezing his eyes shut. He was going to hell.

After service was over, Oliver lingered by the refreshment table, nibbling on a cookie and turning the paper cup full of coffee around and around in his hands. He tried not to be so obvious, searching for Connor. Oliver wasn't even sure what he was going to say. It would be best to at least converse with the younger man for a minute, show his parents that he was socializing and that this wasn't pure torture. But Oliver had mixed feelings.

Connor was obviously straight. The son of a pastor, who read from the bible with with a tone of admiration and faith, couldn't be anything but. Maybe the guy was just naturally charismatic, friendly, maybe he was a flirt at school and didn't know how to turn the charm off. Oliver had to make these excuses for himself because he was often wrong about the way men acted around him; he tended to delude himself into thinking he was worth a second glance.

And besides all that, Oliver knew the stress and frustration that came with pining over a straight guy. It wasn't even worth it to be cordial, straight men brought nothing but hurt to Oliver. Or embarrassment, like that one time Oliver had been so _sure_ his roommate freshman year had been into him, and he'd ruined it all by confessing his feelings for the other guy. Ugh, that had been a disaster.

“Hey, Oliver.”

Oliver turned, his heart leaping into his throat as he faced Connor. He swallowed the coffee in his mouth roughly, coughing afterwards, mortified as Connor's hand came up and patted him on the back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Oliver rasped, smiling foolishly as he set the cup down. Connor's hand fell, digging both into his pants pockets.

An awkward silence fell, making Oliver fidget. Connor continued standing, his eyes darting everywhere, nodding to people. A million words flew around Oliver's brain, wondering what to say, when Connor pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Oliver watched Connor's teeth nip the flesh, worrying it before releasing it with a drag of his tongue. Oliver looked to the floor, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

“Uh, your dad gave a good sermon,” he spat out, knowing it was a typical ice breaker. Knowing it was boring.

“Yeah?”

Oliver nodded, looking back up to meet Connor's eyes. “I liked how, um... he broke down the passage, retold it in real words, so it made sense.”

Connor chuckled. “Yeah, it may be the word of God, but that doesn't make it hard as fuck to understand.”

Oliver blinked owlishly at Connor's colorful word choice. The student's pleasant smile turned sharp, almost into a smirk.

“So, Oliver.” Connor began after Oliver didn't respond. His hip rested on the table, body relaxing, inviting. “You just visiting with the family? I feel like I would have remembered your face.”

Oliver felt his lips stretch in a wide smile without his consent. “What's wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Connor pulled his hands out defensively. That was definitely a smirk. “It's a nice face.”

Oliver scoffed. “Thanks... and yeah, I visit during the weekends when I can. School keeps me pretty busy.”

Someone stepped in between them, apologizing, as they reached for the coffee. Around her shoulders, Oliver saw Connor nudge his head to the side, indicating to the back doors. Oliver walked around the woman to follow Connor back through the mostly empty chapel, keeping pace.

“College?”

“Yeah, MIT.”

“Oh, fancy.” Connor turned his head to give Oliver a dazzling smile. Oliver nearly tripped over his own shoes.

“What about you?” Oliver asked before Conor could pick up his flustering. “Picked a college yet? Or...?”

Connor shrugged. “I'm thinking Columbia.”

“In New York?” Oliver's eyebrows shot up. “Now that's fancy.”

Connor laughed and nodded. “And if they don't accept me, Cornell.”

A beat passed, their shoes echoing off the walls. “Why New York?”

Connor blew out a breath. “Beats staying here. I want to get as far away as possible.”

Before Oliver could ask why, Connor was pushing the back door open, leading the pair outside, behind the church building.

“Huh...” Oliver meandered through the muddy grass toward the edge of the trees, crossing his arms in the crisp spring air. “Looks the same.”

“Does it?”

Oliver turned to see Connor step around him, his footing a little more careful in those polished shoes.

“Yep. Growing up, after every service I would come out here while I waited for my parents to finish talking to everyone.” He lifted his arm, pointing to the trees. “Would go explore the woods.”

“Anything interesting?” Connor lifts his eyebrows curiously at Oliver who started to shake his head, then stopped.

“Well, there was a tire swing back there, not too far in.”

After stepping over one unearthed tree root, almost tripping on it, Connor chuckled at himself, pulling a hand through his hair. Oliver watched, fascinated, taken by this beautiful man next to him. The jostle had knocked a chunk of hair out of Connor's carefully constructed gel cocoon and refused to fit in again, even after trying to push it back. It made Oliver wonder what Connor looked like with his hair down, clean and wild, as opposed to this immaculate styling.

“Wonder if it's still there.” Connor threw that smirk at Oliver again and all he could do in response was stare.

“One way to find out.”

After some trekking, Oliver wondering if he'd made the swing up or if weather managed to destroy it, he heard Connor call out somewhere deeper into the woods.

“Found it!”

Oliver pushed his way through the branches and twigs, finding Connor testing the weight of the swing, his head arched back to stare at the thick branch the tire was tied to via rope.

“Wanna hop on?” Connor waggled his eyebrows playfully.

Oliver laughed lightly. “No thanks. Last time I was on this thing, I was 17 and weighed 50 pounds less.”

Connor smiled, looking back up at the long branch, probably calculating if it'd hold his weight.

“That means I should be able to...” Connor took off his jacket, throwing it at Oliver, who barely had time to catch it before it hit the leafy ground.

“If you fall, I'm gonna laugh.”

“Now that's not very nice...” Connor grinned to himself, grasping the rope firmly with both hands before hoisting himself up, grunting, and sitting atop the tire. The tree branch above creaked in protest, making Oliver's eyes dart up quickly, making sure the rope would hold.

“Hey, not so bad.” Connor leaned back, pushing himself forward, repeating the motion until he was swinging gently.

“You're making me nervous...” Oliver admitted, stepping up closer to Connor.

“Don't let me fall, then.” Connor threw his head back with a wink, gliding past Oliver.

Oliver's fingers caressed the material of Connor's jacket draped over his arms. He watched Connor swing, the back and forth motion becoming more circular the more momentum he picked up.

At one point the tire swung dangerously close to Oliver, causing him to take a step to the side, right before Connor kicked a leg out, narrowly missing clocking Oliver's arm.

“Are you trying to hit me?” Oliver asked, amused.

Connor looked away, that grin ever present, ceasing his movements so he just swayed.

“Did you grow up here?” Connor leant against the rope, so it brushed his cheek.

Oliver opened his mouth to answer, but jumped, hearing his dad calling for him.

“I gotta go...” Oliver said obviously. Connor nodded, awkwardly jumping from the tire swing, nearly getting his foot caught in it.

Connor merely gave Oliver a glance and a small smile, taking his jacket back, pulling his arms through it once more. They walk out of the woods together, careful not to trip or step in mud as they quickly come to the clearing at the back of the church.

Oliver licked his lips. He's not sure what to say. Hanging out with Connor, however brief, had been fun. The student was not only devastatingly gorgeous, but he was cute too. A dangerous combination... and talking to him had been easy and enjoyable. Connor was someone Oliver could easily fall for, and he wasn't sure whether or not to continue this friendly experience by asking for his phone number or--

“Will you be here next week?”

Oliver glanced over, finding Connor's gaze straight ahead.

“I don't know...” Oliver wrung his hands out. _Straight boy, straight boy, straight boy,_ his brain repeated.

“Well, if you do, I promise it'll be more interesting.” Connor turned and smiled. But instead of that confident smirk, the corners of his mouth didn't reach his eyes. He looked uncertain, curious. The way his eyes wandered from Oliver's face slightly, made it seem like he was studying Oliver, searching for something.

“How's that?”

Connor shrugged, his hands slipping into his pockets again. They were nearing the building, their parents right around the corner.

“Come next week and see.” He turned on heel, walking backwards, his confidence coming back. “Prove me right,” he mumbled, Oliver barely picked it up, as Connor turned back around.

“Right about what?” Oliver stopped walking. They were about to round the church, he didn't want to stop looking at Connor yet, didn't want to go back to his family and pretend.

Connor turned back, looking Oliver up and down. Oliver swallowed, feeling heat pool in his belly and his pulse quicken as Connor stepped closer, slowly, brows high in question.

Once they were a foot apart, Oliver stopped breathing. They were nearly eye level, Oliver had maybe an inch or two on Connor, just a hair taller, but it didn't help to deviate his gaze from Connor's. His eyes were a light brown with dark irises, maybe black, maybe a forest green. They were wide, unguarded, and staring right into Oliver.

Oliver had the insane urge to reach out and grab him, kiss the life out of Connor. Turn them around and shove him against the brick structure only to press his own body flush against him. Forcing his tongue past Connor's lips and tasting him, grinding his hips down while his hands explored that lean body. Get high off Connor's breathless cries of pleasure as he kissed back, pulling his hair and making Oliver groan, unlatching that belt to get past those ridiculously form fitting slacks, grabbing onto him and stroking him to full mast.

The image happened in a flash, but Oliver wondered if Connor could see it, the sinful urges that played out right behind his eyes. Because Connor's eyes darkened, widening considerably, while those smirking thin lips went slack, parting minutely.

Connor's voice come out in a low whisper. “That you are--”

The sound of footsteps made the men break apart, Oliver's back nearly hitting the wall behind him. The blush that Oliver had been fighting down for hours finally took over his face, making him look down.

Oliver's mom popped up from the front of the church.

“There you are, Oliver!” She walked up to them with a smile. Connor was still stepping back, finally turning away, his hands awkwardly rubbing up and down the back of his neck.

“Hey, ma,” Oliver tried, thinking of something-- anything to get the flame on his face under control. Something that wasn't Connor inches away from his lips, close enough to smell something rich and earthy wafting off the younger man that made Oliver's mouth water.

“We've been waiting for you!” She practically sang, grabbing Oliver by the arm. “Did you get lost in the woods, again?”

“Mom...” Oliver started, exasperated. He hadn't gotten lost in the woods since he was a child.

She finally seemed to notice Connor then, proclaiming, “Oh!”

“You take care now, honey,” she said, nodding in his direction. Connor stuffed his hands into his pockets to cease the nervous movements.

“You too, Mrs. Hampton.”

Oliver caught Connor's eyes once more before he disappeared around the corner. Oliver's mom was going on about what to have for lunch but Oliver tuned her out. Connor didn't need to finish his reply in order for Oliver to pick up what he was about to say.

_That you are gay._

 

So, what did that mean? Connor had said to prove him right... did he know Oliver was gay? If so, did that mean Connor was too? Oliver had certainly never had a straight man get that close to him, Connor nearly had him against the wall.

And if he was, did all that mean he was interested in Oliver? The thought made Oliver's heart thumb erratically. Maybe there was a lack of gay men out there, in the country where his parents and Connor lived, so Oliver was exciting and new... ready to be used up and tossed away. It happened often enough, and men like Connor never went for men like Oliver, it was just a rule.

So, what did that mean?

Oliver decided he'd visit again, one more time. Only because maybe he was willing to get used up by Connor... he'd certainly never felt such a sexual spark with someone else. Maybe a fling with Connor would be exactly what Oliver needed; de-stress, work out his sexual frustrations on, and toss him aside. Ah, see he could use Connor too. For his body. Yes.

Well, if he was gay and wanted to hookup.

Which Oliver was 90% sure of.

 

The week dragged, thoughts of Connor invading his brain during all his classes, in his study group, while he was in the shower...

Oliver nearly considered going out to a bar Thursday night, just to try and get the alluring high school senior out of his head. Maybe he'd be lucky this time, get nailed in the bathroom or bring a drunk guy home only to wake up alone the next morning.

Yeah, it wasn't even worth the consideration.

Friday night Oliver stayed up late getting all his homework done for the week, declining plans with his friends for Saturday movie night and instead called his mother, telling her he'd stop by again. She was, of course, overjoyed.

Oliver wondered what the hell he was doing.

The following Sunday morning saw Oliver fretting over what to wear. Last week he only wore a button down with straight jeans, refusing to wear a jacket. But today he deliberated the jacket... and maybe a tie to go with it. Connor hadn't been wearing a tie though...

In the end Oliver groaned, pulling on black pants and a blue sweater with his favorite leather jacket. It was slim enough to pass as dressy, appropriate for church.

Connor wore a tie today. It was a silky black tie with pops of blue atop a white button down with a black jacket that looked like it was made out of cream. Black, smooth cream without a single wrinkle on it. Oliver wondered if in a past life, Connor was a model. His suits looked expensive, and tailored to his body, like he was attending a presidential gala, not an in-the-middle-of-nowhere church. It was so over the top, unnecessary, Oliver wanted to rip that outfit apart and _wreck_ Connor, bring him to his knees, starting with that tie around his neck.

“Oliver! So glad you could make it back.” The pastor intercepted Oliver and his family before he could get to Connor.

Oliver forced a smile, wondering how manic it looked. “Of course!”

“You haven't heard the pleasure of my son giving a sermon yet!” Pastor Walsh gestured to Connor, who was in conversation with an older woman.

“Oh yes.” Olivers dad nodded. “Is he speaking today?”

The pastor nodded, turning back to Oliver. “About once a month I allow Connor to lead a sermon alone; God truly works through our youth.”

“He's incredible, you should be so proud.” Oliver's dad praised, giving his own son a sideways glance. Oliver pretended not to notice.

Pastor Walsh nodded. “He'll make a great minister.”

Oliver almost smirked, biting the inside of his cheek. Somehow, he doubted Connor wanted to be a minister.

Oliver's parents and the pastor left him alone, eventually, breaking off to chat before service started, leaving Oliver to hover near Connor, waiting for him to finish up his conversation.

Finally giving Oliver his attention, Connor leaned against a pew, a bible swinging loosely in one hand.

“Heard you were speaking today.”

Connor hummed, shrugging. “I get bored, and it makes dad happy.”

“What's it on?”

“Ah.” Connor pointed a finger at Oliver. “No spoilers.”

Oliver leaned against the pew as well, studying the way Connor's crisp jacket hugged his shoulders and arms, gaze lingering on the leather bible in his hand, tapping against his hip.

“How old are you?”

Connor's smile faltered before turning sharp, into the smirk that Oliver had been dreaming about through the week.

“Eighteen.”

Oliver scoffed, shaking his head. “You'll be unstoppable in college.”

“I'm unstoppable now.” Connor lowered his head, checking Oliver out discreetly. Oliver nearly fell over.

“Nice jacket.”

“Thanks...” _Nice everything_ , Oliver wanted to reply.

Oliver forced himself to walk away with a “See you after,” noticing his father watching. While he had been home yesterday, his mom was openly excited about Oliver making a new friend, especially the son of a pastor. And of course, she was thrilled he was attending church again without a fight.

Oliver could only hope his father felt the same way, maybe lay off on the whole “finding a church” thing. Though Oliver couldn't help the pang of anxiety when his dad looked over at him silently, as if he knew Oliver had some kind of ulterior motives. Hiding his sexuality was hard enough without a hot guy in the mix, let alone doing so in church surrounded by Christian traditionalists.

Taking a seat with his mother and father, Oliver went through the same motions as last week. Music, announcements, music... then a girl, a young teenager, walked up to the pulpit like Connor had, reading from a passage that would set the tone for the sermon about to take place.

She spoke timidly into the microphone, her voice wavering through the halls.

“In Matthew 5:27-30, we read: 'You have heard that it was said, Do not commit adultery. But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.'”

Oliver subconsciously rubbed his right eye. Then he had an absurd thought, _what if you jack off with your_ left _hand? Is that okay?_

She stumbled off the stage, leaving Connor to take her place, setting his bible down and scattering a few pages of notes.

“I want to begin my sermon this morning by telling you a story about a young man that showed lots of promise, but who's life ended tragically all because he could not control his lust.”

_Oh my God._

Oliver listened with rapt attention, amused that Connor, a walking example of lust, passion, all things unholy, was preaching negatively on the topic.

He went on to describe the man, how his birth was literally an answer to prayer, a dedication to God, who grew up in a Godly home. He was handsome, popular, occasionally showing flashes of true spiritual strength. After admitting how this man's life had been tragically cut short by his own desires, he revealed the man as Samson (of the Old Testament).

Oliver nearly laughed. It was a good lead up, Connor had described Samson as if he was a person in the real world today. He clearly took after his father's preaching style.

Connor back tracked then, describing passion and lust, how the two aren't meant to define the same thing. He used holy examples of passion from scripture, then how it can be construed and dirtied. He went on to describe the types of lust, not just sexual, but also the lust for wealth, greed, leadership.

“Described this way,” Connor says, “no one is free from the battle of lust.”

It was amazing. Oliver was actually having second thoughts about Connor's sexuality. Maybe he _was_ straight... maybe what happened last week was a fluke, something Oliver was massively over reading. Connor spoke like a real minister, quoting scripture, explaining it thoroughly and conventionally, while gesticulating and jabbing the pulpit to make a point.

“... without a doubt, however, the word is best understood with our culture's preoccupation with sex and sensuality...”

Oliver slouched, he had nearly blocked Connor's words out for a moment there. He was indeed a vision, standing up there, pressed, neat, clean. But it was... too convincing. As Connor connected points back to Samson, admitting he was a young adult like himself, who was pulled into the spiral of self-gratification, and something about how hard it is for teenagers to get away from the temptations of society. Because sin was in the media; the music we listened to, the shows we watched, the books we read...

Oliver quirked an eyebrow, casually looking around, watching the older members of the church nod their heads in agreement.

Then Connor seemed to be wrapping up, coming back to the passage in Matthew the girl read before he mounted the stage. He explained a way to resist lust and experience the “grace and forgiveness of God.”

But to “...be careful...” Connor's eyes drifted over to Oliver. Maybe he saw Oliver's unamused face because he looked down at his bible quickly, suppressing a smile.

“After all, 'anyone that looks at another lustfully has already committed adultery in his heart.'” His eyes narrowed in on Oliver now, his smile controlled. Oliver fidgeted in his seat, Connor had incorrectly quoted that, and he wondered if anyone else noticed.

The way Connor looked over at him pointedly while he said it threw Oliver for a loop, curious if Connor had done so on purpose.

 _...anyone that looks at_ another _lustfully has already committed adultery in his heart_ , instead of at a _woman_ lustfully.

And boy had Oliver been lusting after _another_ quite frequently.

 

Connor was swarmed with people once service ended, praising his sermon, using words like _educational_ and _so true_ and _we need more spiritual minded young men like yourself in the world._

Oliver waited outside, sitting on the steps and playing solitaire on his phone.

He wouldn't delude himself into thinking that stare had meant anything promising, merely an attempt to gauge Oliver's reaction. To hit him with (incorrect) scripture, to tell Oliver to lay off, I can see you eye raping me and I'd appreciate it if you stopped... kind of stare.

Sighing, Oliver stood, pocketing his phone. He needed a walk.

“Hey, Oliver!”

Said man turned, fixing his eyes on Connor, who's head poked out one of the front doors.

“Don't leave yet. Tell your parents you're having lunch with me.” He grinned before darting back inside, leaving no room for discussion.

Oliver stood still, quirking his head to the side.

When he told his parents a little later, his mom proclaimed:

“Oh, at the Walsh's house?”

Oliver shrugged. “I guess so.”

He guessed wrong.

After his parents left, and the church was mostly empty, Connor finally came back out again, nearly running down the stairs with how fast his went. Oliver was quick to follow, nearly stumbling down the last step.

“Hurry, c'mon.” Connor grabbed Oliver's arm, pulling him along as they jogged away from the building and around the corner.

“Wait, where are we going?” Oliver couldn't keep a smile down at Connor's goofy expression.

“Car.” Connor pointed in the distance to a gorgeous white house with a vibrate array of flowers and neatly trimmed hedges, with two vehicles in the driveway.

Once they reached the sleek Prius, Connor released Oliver's arm, marching to the driver's side and opening the door. Oliver was still too busy admiring the house.

The passenger door opened, bumping into Oliver's hip.

“Would you get in?” Connor demanded from inside.

Oliver scrambled in, shutting the door and fumbling with his seat belt.

“You live here.” He nodded to the pristine white house with green shingles and oh-- a balcony.

Connor laughed without humor. “Nice, huh?” The car was already started. He put it in drive and lurched out of the driveway, turning down the road away from the church.

Oliver looked over, tracing the outline of Connor's profile, his brow bone and sharp nose, lips that barely jut out before the line of his chin curved around and down a long, slender neck.

“Um...” Oliver fiddled with his hands in his lap. “That was quite an interesting message--”

Connor blanched. “Please, don't start.” He turned his head briefly, catching Oliver's curious gaze before focusing on the road again. “I hate going up there.”

Oliver stared, brows furling. He didn't seem to mind while they were talking beforehand.

“You seemed to really be into it.”

Connor shook his head, rolling his eyes with heavy sarcasm. “I have to be. Everyone is watching, and the better I am, the more convinced dad is and eases up on me.”

Oliver wondered what Connor meant by that, but felt like it was something he shouldn't pry into.

The scenery whipped by as Connor sped along, leaving the rural neighborhood and turning down a barren road that Oliver knew would eventually lead into the city. The land surrounding either side of the car still had brown, dead overgrowth and naked trees, with random bursts of color that proved spring was right around the corner, soon the trees would be dressed in green again.

“Why did you choose lust to speak on?” Oliver asked, staring out the window.

Connor was quiet for a moment, Oliver could feel his eyes on him but didn't turn to meet him.

“To prove to my dad that it's not something I'm struggling with,” he said after a pause. “Though you'd think my lack of interest in girls would satisfy him.” Connor tagged on like an after thought.

Oliver looked over just as Connor looked back to the road.

Oliver licked his lips. “What are you interested in?”

Connor grinned, cocking an eyebrow while he side-eyed Oliver.

“You haven't figured it out? How deep in the closet are you, anyway?”

Oliver sputtered, choking on nothing.

Connor laughed, his fingers tapping on the wheel.

“For your information,” Oliver started, his heart racing. “I am out, my parents are the only people who don't know.”

“Ah.” Connor nodded, but he was still grinning. “Well, same here. Dad would probably send me to one of those camps if he ever found out.”

“Same...” Oliver mumbled, looking out the window again.

 

As the hours went on, lunch with Connor started to feel more like a date. They ate filling sandwiches and walked along the Delaware River snacking on french fries, talking about nothing and everything. Enjoying the bustle of Philly and the freedom away from home.

Oliver found out that Connor's parents were divorced, his older sister, Gemma, had lived with their mom until she was old enough to move out. He had two nephews who he tried to see regularly, but school and church kept him stuck at home with his strict father.

Oliver told him he also had an older sibling, a brother, Caden, who currently worked in Toronto, freelancing in film. Caden hardly visited anymore, except on Christmas.

“He was always a dick to me anyway,” Oliver remembered, leaning against a rail and staring out at the water reflecting the cloudy sky. “Once, when we were kids, he melted my toy dinosaur on the heater and when my dad asked who did it, he blamed me and I was punished.”

Connor scoffed, shaking his head in amusement. “The trials and tribulations of being the youngest.”

Oliver nodded. “Dad doesn't approve of Caden's career choice, even though he's very successful...” Oliver trailed off, kicking a few pebbles into the water. “I think he expected me to become a better example, do something for God with my life, but instead I just work with computers.”

“Do you like what your doing?”

Oliver looked over, Connor's eyes trained on him.

“Well, yeah.”

Connor shrugged. “Then what's the problem?”

Oliver laughed sarcastically. “Really? Says the guy who's literally living a lie.”

“Hey.” Connor put his hands up. “Only until graduation. You think I like being a pastors kid? It fucking sucks.” He blew out a breath, stuffing more fries in his mouth, speaking around them. “I'm just protecting myself.”

Oliver fell silent, drumming his fingers along the railing.

“At least you're in college, in Massachusetts. You're farther than where I'm going. You're free to do whatever you want.” Connor mumbled, crushing the empty paper container in his hands.

“Yeah but, I couldn't just... leave my mom, you know?” Oliver spoke softly.

“Mm...” Connor sighed, slouching over the railing. “I get it.”

They moved on, exploring the city some more, taking in the sights and grabbing coffee, then ice cream as it became later. Oliver had visited Philly plenty of times growing up, but right now everything felt brand new, walking around with Connor, purposefully getting lost to see where they'd end up. Turning corners and finding something new to talk about, or enjoying each other's company in the silence. As the sun set and the sky turned into a pinkish orange, Oliver realized he hadn't enjoyed himself like this in a really long time.

Home was an hour drive away, but as the cool of night settled around them, Oliver couldn't let Connor go, not yet. He wanted to see more of Connor like this, free and happy, prancing around, posing with statues, unashamedly asking to sample every flavor of ice cream at the vendor, laughing loudly, showing all his teeth. The Connor at church was almost a different person, a mask he wore to conceal what was really underneath.

“It's getting late...” Connor said, checking the time on his phone. “Dad's already texted me 5 times.”

Oliver winced. “I'm sure my parents are wondering where I am too. I told them I was having lunch with you and your dad.”

Connor snickered. “They probably called him then. Hope I don't get you in trouble,” he teased, nudging Oliver with his elbow.

Oliver rolled his eyes, following Connor as he led them back to his car.

After walking in silence, a strange tension flared up that hadn't been present before, making Oliver's hands twitch and his teeth nibble his lips. Before Oliver could act on his jitters, they reached Connor's car.

“So...” Connor stepped up to Oliver as he waited by the passenger side door. “Thanks for coming out with me, even though I kind of forced you.” He smirked, a flash of that confident man that Oliver had been daydreaming about rising back to the surface.

“I'm glad you did.” Oliver grinned back, leaning against the car.

Connor's hair was falling out of place again. It was messy, tousled by the wind. He had yanked off his tie hours ago, popping the first few buttons of the neat dress shirt, exposing a hint of delicious looking collar bones, which Oliver found himself staring at now.

Connor stepped closer, slowly, carefully, reaching his hands out and resting them on Oliver's waist, just inside the jacket.

Connor's voice dropped a few octaves as he leaned in, causing Oliver's heart to do numerous back flips.

“I won't be able to do this when I drop you off, so...”

Oliver's eyes slipped shut, meeting Connor's mouth halfway, pressing their lips together softly.

Connor pushed forward, moving his lips with Oliver's, keeping it slow but urgent, his hands slipping around Oliver's waist to pull them flush together. Oliver hummed, a current shooting down his body at the contact, making everywhere Connor touched hyper sensitive, leaving a pleasant burning sensation wherever his fingers explored.

Parting his lips, slipping a tongue out to lick open Connor's mouth, Oliver's hands surged to life, surrounding Connor's face as they moaned in unison, deepening the kiss with a flare of aggression that Oliver wasn't aware he had in him.

Oliver's fingers pressed roughly into Connor's hair line, knotting his fingers in that thick hair and grabbing on. Connor's unmistakable whine of pleasure spurred Oliver on, forcing Connor's head back a little, ravishing his mouth and memorizing the taste of Connor, how he smelled and felt melded against his own body; it was intoxicating.

Connor's hands moved from Oliver's lower back, feeling up his stomach and chest before roughly pushing him back, so Oliver was pinned to the car as Connor gave himself the upper hand, slotting their pelvises together and rolling his hips.

Oliver groaned low in his throat, moving his mouth along Connor's with more carnal need, messy and desperate. He wrapped his arms fully around Connor's shoulders, pulling so their was no space between them.

Slowing down, perhaps dulling remembering that they were still out in public, Connor pulled back, gasping as Oliver held his bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it lewdly.

They panted roughly, catching their breath inches apart, hot air mixing together, tasting each other.

“I've wanted to do that since I first saw you,” Connor breathed, leaning back in so their lips brushed teasingly.

Oliver grinned, elated. “Same.”

They kissed again once, twice, three times. Chaste yet lingering.

“Oliver...” Connor groaned, nosing down his jaw line and neck. “How am I supposed to keep my hands off you now?”

Oliver chuckled, eyes blissfully shut as he stretched his neck out, his skin tingling where Connor left open mouthed kisses.

“Don't.”

Connor almost growled, grabbing Oliver's face and kissing him again with a fiery passion.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick shout out to samwhambam, who probably inadvertently had a hand in the creation of this fic haha.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the response last chapter guys! It made me feel... not so horrible writing something like this :'D
> 
> It was brought up once, but I wanna address it publicly anyway. Connor's church isn't Catholic, I was picturing something more liberal (but still traditional). Think... Methodist.
> 
> The E for Explicit starts this chapter (and only gets worse, Lord have mercy).

_I can't believe you're not visiting this weekend :(_

Oliver smiled fondly, reading the text from Connor.

_Sorry, I have way too much going on right now. My professors are all cramming projects down our throats before spring break._

Oliver sat at his desk, taking out his laptop and setting his phone next to it, hearing it buzz a moment later.

After getting himself situated, Oliver took his phone, reading Connor's reply with a sly grin.

_How dare you give me a taste and leave me hanging like this..._

And then,

_You know how bad I want you?_

Oliver bit his lip, lashes lifting to survey the area around him. The room was still pretty sparse, he had arrived early and students were slowly milling in, minding their own business.

 _How bad?_ He tapped out, hitting send before thinking about it.

Three little dots appeared, signifying Connor was typing. Oliver forced himself to look away, making the screen black and resting his elbows on the desk.

More students filed in. Oliver nodded to one he had recently acquainted himself with, glad he chose not to sit next to Oliver today. Though Oliver knew he should shut this down, whatever he was encouraging Connor to do. It wouldn't be proper to be distracted in class... or pop a boner.

As the seconds ticked by, Oliver became restless, snagging the phone and unlocking it just as Connor's message came through.

_Bad enough to let you have your way with me. Do whatever you want to me, make me beg and cry out for more..._

“Jesus...” Oliver breathed, his pulse racing as three more dots appeared.

_I'd love that. Love for you to make a mess of me, throw me around and fuck me up_

Was it getting hot in here? Oliver licked his lips, images of doing just that to Connor flashing behind his eyes. Here, on the desk, against the wall, in Oliver's bed.

He stared down at his phone, wondering how to respond and coming up blank. Oliver had never sexted before, and what Connor was initiating seemed... like sexting. One make out session and Oliver felt like a teenager again exploring his sexuality. Was it cheesy to say Connor made him feel brand new?

 _Nah_ , Oliver was still young.

Connor sent one more text, ceasing Oliver's twitching thumbs over the keypad pad and making up his mind for him.

_I'm walking into gym now, so I can't have my phone on me. Don't think about how I'll be taking a shower afterward, naked, washing the sweat from my body, in full view of everyone in the locker room_

Oliver swallowed, managing one word in the text box as a reply:

_Fuck_

 

 

Texting Connor during the week made the time passing by a little more interesting, that's for sure. But it also made work difficult. Oliver found his focus lost during assignments and lectures, unable to _not_ check his phone when it vibrated. And it wasn't like they only exchanged dirty texts (though it did happen a lot. Oliver wondered what he had gotten himself into, becoming involved with Connor Walsh).

They talked a lot about their families and life. Complaints from Connor that Oliver wholeheartedly understood and sympathized with. Church was even more of a snooze-fest, Connor had told him, now that there was no eye candy. Oliver had smiled at that. And Connor's dad was watching him like a hawk.

“ _It's like I'm under house arrest,”_ Connor whined a couple nights after their little escapade into Philly. Oliver sat at his desk, simultaneously working on a project while Connor's voice filtered through his cell phone's scratchy speaker, seated face-up next to his keyboard.

“It's called being grounded, Connor.” Oliver grinned, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Connor's groan made Oliver chuckle.

“ _I'm too old to be grounded.”_

“And yet...” Oliver teased.

Oliver didn't make fun of it though. It was a dick move on his father's part to ground Connor, who was technically an adult now, even if he was still living at home. Oliver's parents had stopped punishing him at 16, and he thought _they_ were strict. Although... Oliver's rebellious “wild side” never fully developed; he was always a good, law-abiding son.

Oliver told Connor how he never went out to crazy parties, never smoked or drank, and had only lost his virginity last year (which prompted Connor to inhale whatever beverage he'd been drinking in shock.

“What?” Oliver demanded, a tinge of embarrassment coloring his tone. “How old were you?”

Connor went quiet then. Oliver imagined him fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“ _... Fourteen.”_ ).

He recently realized that, like Connor, he was too scared to be himself, act out, have fun, be a teenager. Any signs of rebellion resulted in the wrath of Oliver's tiny Filipino mother... or his father's bible whipping. Though Connor did act out, only in secret, and he was very good at getting away with it.

They had more in common than they realized, Oliver and Connor. Forced control, forbidden friendships, and curfews that ended way too early.

“ _It was always easier with mom around...”_ Connor sighed another night. Oliver was lying in bed, surrounded by darkness. It was late, they'd been on the phone for an hour now, voices becoming lower, quieter, muffled. _“She never tied me down or made me do anything... then again, I was only 13 when she left. I hadn't even started to see the real world yet.”_

“You miss her?” Oliver's eyes were slipping shut.

The last thing Oliver heard before sleep took over was a soft sigh.

“ _Yeah.”_

 

 

Friday morning found Oliver staring down at his phone. He was drafting up how to say he wouldn't make it home again this weekend. Assignments were piling up, classmates were bothering him to look over their software programs, and he still needed three more sources on his thesis paper. Going home was out of the question, no matter how tempting Connor's promises had been.

Oliver got up, made coffee, and took out his phone again while he leaned against the counter, listening to the coffee machine work. He was putting it off. In a week he'd gotten so much closer to Connor than he had in a month's time with his past relationship. It helped that Connor was a chatter box, but it was honestly a little scary, nerve wracking, how much he liked Connor. How much he connected with him, felt like he could say exactly how he was feeling without judgment... he didn't want to disappoint him.

Watching the coffee drip into the pot, Oliver sighed roughly, throwing his head back and wiping a hand down his face. He unlocked his phone and started typing. The words came, and Oliver sent the text without dwelling on it too much. Connor could live without him for another week... _Oliver_ could make it another week; it wasn't the end of the world.

A minute passed.

Then two.

Oliver checked his phone to make sure the message was delivered. It was.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, took the mug and sat on the couch, turning on the TV and setting up Netflix, when his phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Oliver was expecting anger, hurt, something else negative that would make him feel guilty, but instead the first thing out of Connor's mouth when he answered the phone was,

“ _You do know this means we're gonna try phone sex now.”_

Oliver smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.

“I don't know about that...”

A playful huff tickled Oliver's ear.

“ _But I've been_ such _a good boy, Oliver.”_

Oliver bit his lip to refrain from responding to that.

“Aren't you in class right now?” He couldn't imagine Connor just saying that, his voice purring in his ear, in the hallway or outside a classroom.

“ _I'm ditching study hall, no one cares,”_ he said quickly, moving on. Oliver shook his head, amused.

“Where are you?”

“ _Under the bleachers...”_ Connor's voice trailed off with innuendo. _“I've fucked guys out here.”_

Oliver brought his legs up, crossing them on the couch. Oliver figured Connor got around, the younger man would usually start up stories before letting them die off, either ashamed to finish them or being considerate of Oliver's feelings.

Feelings was something they hadn't talked about. Not that Oliver was craving a sappy heart-to-heart... but the romantic in him wondered what Connor and him were. Boyfriends? Friends? A couple guys who made out once and now teased each other via text message? It was getting weird, but maybe that was only on Oliver's end. He worried it was still too soon to bring that up with Connor.

“Anyone recently?” Oliver chewed on his lip. He tried to sound casual, but it was eating him up inside, wondering if Connor had been fooling around this week while Oliver was gone. Not that he couldn't if he wanted to, they hadn't said anything about being exclusive. And _it has only been a week would you stop worrying so much??_

Connor went quiet and Oliver held his breath. He heard the wind crackle through the phone and wondered how cold it was there.

“ _No...”_ Connor admitted, his voice soft, honest. _“I told you, I've been good.”_

Oliver leaned back, imagining Connor do the same, except instead of a lumpy couch, the back of his head touched the cold metal of a support beam for the bleachers.

“ _What about you?”_ Connor spoke again, playfulness coming back. _“Anyone I should be jealous of?”_

Oliver snorted. “Yeah right. Even if I did go out, no one gives me the time of day.”

A scoff. _“They're just shy, or stupid,”_ Connor said. _“You're so damn hot, I don't know how I managed not to jump you in church that first day.”_

Oliver's eyes went out of focus, remembering back to the spark he felt as their hands touched, and how he could barely keep his eyes off Connor. And then how they almost kissed, out in the open, up against the brick structure.

“You almost did.” Oliver grinned, allowing himself a little confidence boost.

Connor hummed, agreeing. _“You were tempting me, that stupid shirt that barely fit over your arms...”_ Connor's voice drifted, like he was putting himself back in that situation. _“They look strong, like you could life me no problem to pound me into the wall...”_

Oliver's pulse raced, wondering where Connor was going with this. “Funny, I was thinking something similar.”

Connor chuckled. _“I could see it, the way you looked at me. You wanted to fuck me right there.”_

“I still do,” Oliver murmured, his low voice even taking him by surprise.

“ _Shit...”_ Connor gasped, making Oliver's dick twitch in his pants. _“You sure you don't wanna try phone sex?”_

Oliver looked over at the time displayed on his microwave. Connor's needy voice was tantalizing, he wondered if he could make the younger man beg, scream, cum all over himself... but time was an issue. And besides...

“While you're outside? Isn't it cold?”

Connor groaned, half in annoyance, half in sexual frustration. _“We could make it warm...”_

Oliver shook his head, smiling. “I have class soon. And so do you.”

On cue, Oliver heard the distant sound of a bell ringing on Connor's end.

“ _Fine,”_ Connor grumbled, shuffling. _“But this isn't over.”_

Oliver was still smiling when Connor hung up.

 

 

 

“Do I need to take your phone away from you?”

Oliver looked up, grinning sheepishly before tucking his cell phone in his back pocket. He picked up his coffee mug, taking a sip.

“Sorry.” Be he didn't look sorry. Michaela sighed, looking back to her notes.

“You've seriously been glued to your phone for weeks--”

“It's been like, 10 days...” Oliver interjected.

“So you don't deny it,” Michaela teased, smiling fiendishly. Oliver shook his head, taking his pencil now and tapping it on the table's surface.

“Have I been that obvious?”

Michaela _pssh'd_. “What? _No_. Not when you can't answer questions in class anymore, or take your phone out every minute, or blow off our study group...” She trailed on sarcastically, nonchalantly turning a page in her notebook.

Oliver felt a wave of embarrassment roll over him. He obviously noticed his focus waning in his studies, but that's why he was taking another weekend to himself, to catch up and get his mojo back, so to speak.

“You know you sound like Asher when you talk like that,” Oliver deflected. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and it was almost a knee-jerk reaction now to check it. _Connor Walsh, what have you done to me?_

Rolling her eyes, Michaela chose to stop pretending to read her notes and propped her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together.

“Is it a boy?”

Oliver groaned, tilting his head to the ceiling, but he smiled anyway.

Michaela gasped.

“Tell me more!”

“His name's Connor.” Oliver's head dropped back down to answer his friend, biting back a grin. “And it's still very new. I'm not even sure we're technically... 'dating' yet.” He did air quotes.

Mickaela's giddy smile was contagious. “It's about time you got yourself back out there.” She picked up her cup. “Where did you meet? In class?”

Oliver told her about how he'd gone home and how he'd met Connor. How it was kind of weird and if they wanted this to be serious, they'd have to keep it a secret. Which made Oliver pause, hesitating. He'd never voiced that concern aloud, what their families would think if Connor and him ever became official. Oliver supposed it was still too early to be thinking about that, but the idea of hiding a relationship never occurred to Oliver, even with his ex, Jeremy... though maybe that was because Jeremy had been _here_ , not in another state, close to his religious parents.

Soon after more questions and answers, Oliver offered up his phone to Michaela, showing her a picture of Connor from FaceBook.

She shrugged. “He's cute.”

 

 

 

_Cute?? I am more than just “cute” does your friend have eyes?_

Oliver laughed at the text, letting the towel over his head fall to his wet shoulders.

He had explained to Connor how he'd unofficially introduced him to Michaela. And Oliver had answered honestly to Connor's question, _“what does she think of me? This is very important, Oliver.”_

 _You can't expect everyone to fall in love with you_ \--

Oliver's eyes widened when he realized what he typed out and quickly erased the text, sighing. He stared at the screen, licking his lips before trying again.

_Not everyone in the world wants to bone you_

Connor's reply was instantaneous, unaware of the catastrophic flub Oliver almost engaged.

_But she's your friend so I expected her to have good taste_

_You are a piece of work_

_You know it ;)_

Oliver laughed again, shaking his head as he tossed the phone on the bed, turning to his dresser and fishing out a pair of underwear.

As the boxer briefs snapped against his hips, Oliver's phone buzzed again and he picked it up, laying sideways on his bed.

_Speaking of, what are you wearing right now?_

_Devil_ , Oliver thought, smirking. He had told Connor he'd be in the shower, away from his phone. Oliver didn't know why he had to announce it, surely Connor could use a 10-minute break from texting him.

_Don't start._

_I bet you're naked, or just wearing a towel. Maybe still wet, hair in your face..._

Oliver groaned, rolling over to lay on his back, holding the phone above his head, staring at the conversation.

After a minute, Connor sent another text.

_Am I wrong?_

_You can't wait to do this tomorrow?_ Oliver replied.

Today was Friday. After two long, agonizing weeks of waiting, Oliver would see Connor again. It was also the start of spring break, so he planned on spending the whole week at home... purely for selfish reasons ( _Connor should be so lucky_ ).

Because usually Oliver spent these mini vacations here, at school. He insisted to his parents that there was just too much work to do, exams he needed to study for, projects he needed to catch up on... which were mostly true. Oliver knew he was a dull hermit crab, so he did tend to use his free time buried in textbooks or staring at a computer screen; his favorite places were the library and computer lab. Sure he'd wander around town, maybe poke his head into a club or campus party, forcing himself out of his comfort zone, only to leave with his tail between his legs less than an hour later.

That's actually how he met Michaela. They only shared one class this semester, but he found her at a house party he'd been invited to. They clicked immediately, both studious, serious, and single. But unlike Oliver, Michaela was much more ambitious, extroverted, confident. She was like his alter ego, but also his wing man, so to speak. She always provided him with pep talks, life advice, and forced him to just _“do it! Go talk to that guy! I dare you!”_

 _And when exactly will I have the chance to get you alone?_ Came Connor's responding text.

 _I'll be home for a whole week!_ Oliver reminded him.

_Yeah but, my spring break doesn't start til wednesday. High school is literal hell._

Oliver turned to lay on his front, propped up on his elbows.

_We'll figure it out._

He didn't get a text back from Connor until later that night, after Oliver had finished packing, taking a seat behind the wheel of his car.

_I can't wait to see you._

 

* * *

 

Oliver was practically vibrating with excitement as his father pulled up to a curb outside the church, noticing most of the congregation outside, mingling at the doors or on the steps.

Connor and him had slowed down their texting, Oliver's parents knowing how introverted their son was, would surely find it suspicious that he was suddenly attached to his phone. He had explained to them that “yes mom,” he and Connor were friends and they had a lot of fun in Philly (and he swore he didn't know Connor would have them there all day). But even so, Oliver didn't want them to acknowledge how much time he was spending on his phone. And it would be good for Connor too, probably even better, since his father had been keeping an unusually close eye on him.

So, seeing Connor leaning against the railing as Oliver and his parent's made their way up the sidewalk, was much more exciting than it should have been. The way Connor stood, hands in his pockets, bored look on his face, got Oliver's blood racing far too fast to be considered healthy.

And if the look Connor gave him as they neared the structure was any indication, the young man was feeling something similar.

“Hello, Connor.” Oliver's dad greeted him with a handshake.

“Hi, Mr. Hampton.” Oliver knew Connor's grip would be firm, professional. He watched as they disconnected, Connor effortlessly appearing friendly and innocent, moving to shake his mother's hand as well.

“How was your week?” Connor supplied soon after, looking to Oliver's mother. _Such a gentleman._

Oliver's mom prattled on about the market and the weather and Connor nodded and smiled like her rambling was the most fascinating thing ever. Then his father said something and Connor paid attention to him once more and Oliver suddenly realized Connor was doing this on purpose, ignoring him. To rile him up or to regain his self control, Oliver wasn't sure. The mundane chit chat was actually helping Oliver to not think about all the dirty things he wanted to do to Connor, even though his gaze had accidentally fixed itself to his crotch.

“Oliver.”

Said man's head snapped up, finding Connor staring down at him with a secret gleam in his eyes. Oliver was on a step below him, giving the allusion of Connor being taller. Oliver looked from side to side, his parents were nowhere to be seen. He blushed, wondering how long he'd spaced out there.

He nodded. “Connor.”

They shook hands, their hold unbearably tight, squeezing like neither would ever let go. Something painfully enticing shot up Oliver's arm, from their linked hands down his back and up again to the hairs on his head, making him shiver.

Their hands finally dropped. Oliver wondered if anyone noticed how the embrace lasted a moment longer than expected, just a hair more, too friendly.

And Connor's stare wasn't helping. He peered into Oliver's eyes like looking away meant death, like he didn't care that there were dozens of people around them, like Oliver was a gorgeous painting and he needed to study every detail.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Oliver finally whispered, darting his gaze to the side.

“Like what?” Connor tilted his head, his casual smile lifting at the edge. He leaned forward slightly, not too conspicuous, and lowered his voice.

“Like I want to take you behind the church and eat you out?”

“ _Yes_.” Oliver gasped, remembering himself and taking a step back from Connor, nearly tripping down the stairs. He swallowed hard, crossing his arms. “Yes, stop.”

There was a glint in Connor's eyes as he straightened up, nodding like they just had a normal conversation.

“Nice to see you again.”

Oliver nodded as well, wondering if it was cold enough outside to blame his red cheeks on the weather.

“You too.”

Connor took two steps down to get on Oliver's level.

“Let's meet up after church again, my treat.” He winked, eyes flicking down and up Oliver's body before walking back up the concrete steps. Oliver couldn't look away from Connor's ass as he moved, mesmerized by the way his slacks hugged around it, leaving little to the imagination.

Oliver's attention was thankfully diverted as someone greeted him.

Connor must be a great actor to fool everyone here into thinking he was the prime, perfect example of the pastor's son: faithful, knowledgeable, untarnished. How could they not see the real Connor? Though, Oliver had been pretty convinced too, just by seeing the younger man _in_ a church. If anyone were to give away Connor's true self, it would probably be Oliver, with his blatant staring. He had to do his best to also remain in character.

And service was pure torture. Oliver was nearly sweating with how hard he refrained from thinking about Connor, nearly making himself dizzy with the effort to appear totally normal and not over analyze the way he interacted with Connor. Or with his parents, for that matter.

“Why don't you sit up with Connor, today?” His mother had insisted while everyone was taking their seats. Oliver looked to his dad, who stared straight ahead, to Connor, up a few pews, sitting with his father, and back to his mother.

He knew his mother was just excited her youngest, most withdrawn son, had finally opened up and made a friend. But the irrational, anxious part of his brain wondered, would that be normal? _Do straight guys like sitting with each other? If we whispered during service, goofed off and sang off-key to praise and worship, would that be brushed aside as young, Christian men, enjoying themselves, or seem suspicious, a cause for concern?_

None of that mattered anyway. Even if he'd wanted to (Oliver had indeed thought about asking to sit with Connor), the thought of sitting so close to Connor's father scared the living daylights out of Oliver.

Luckily the organ started blaring then, giving Oliver a good excuse to turn the offer down.

“Service is starting,” Oliver said with a shrug. He stepped closer to his mom, leaning down to talk in her ear. “But we are going out again after church.” He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Oh, no problem!” She smiled up at Oliver, nodding. “Just don't be out so late this time.”

Oliver smiled.

 

* * *

 

“I thought you were grounded?”

Connor looked over, shooting Oliver that playful yet confident smile, which was becoming a personal favorite of Oliver's. The smile that frequented Oliver's day dreams, the one that he imagined over his lips, on his neck, down his chest, around his cock...

“It was only for that week.” He looked back to the road, hands leisurely gripping the steering wheel. “And believe it or not, my dad actually likes you. Probably thinks you're a good influence on me.” Connor threw a wink at Oliver, who laughed.

“Really? Wow... wonder why.”

Connor shrugged. “You're very withdrawn and polite, opposite of me. He knows I act out outside of church, though not to the full extent, obviously.” He was still smiling, focusing on the road. “Maybe he thinks you can teach me a lesson.”

Oliver, who had been busy watching the scenery whip by, turned to Connor, brow raised in humor.

“A lesson?”

“Oh _yeah_ ,” Connor drawled, sitting up a little straighter. “Teach this country boy a thing or two about respecting his elders.”

Oliver chuckled. “You know how ridiculous you sound sometimes?”

“You're the only one who thinks that.” Connor looked over again quickly.

Oliver looked back out the window. “Doubt it. You're secretly a goof ball.”

He heard Connor scoff but nothing else for a while.

They weren't heading to the city, though the road was the same. Connor had told him it was a secret, probably an area even Oliver didn't know about. His own little getaway place, Connor said, and it was much closer to home.

Oliver turned his head, letting it rest against the back of the seat, and watched Connor drive, mumbling along to the music quietly playing on the radio. He half expected himself to be nervous around Connor now, the two weeks spent on the phone with each other felt normal at the time, but with Connor physically here again, Oliver wondered why neither of them were bringing up the countless conversations they exchanged. The things they learned about each other, their pasts, family, and friends... and the constant near-sexting they engaged in. Not that the silence was uncomfortable, not at all.

All that heavy flirting sat at the back of Oliver's head, knowing they had grown closer, but wondering when was a good time to initiate anything. This was all such a new experience for Oliver, letting lust attract first before he knew Connor's personality. He wondered if this was normal for Connor... if he could take away anything from the young man's track record, Oliver would think that Connor was used to “falling in lust,” acting on it, and then never taking things further.

Connor hadn't mentioned boyfriends, even after Oliver spoke about his ex, even when Connor dropped the bomb about losing his virginity. There was still so much to learn about Connor, and while he did talk a lot, he mostly asked about Oliver, prodding him to provide most of the conversation, always deflecting anything _too_ personal to a question about Oliver's studies, his parents, what his favorite sexual position was.

Oliver chewed on his bottom lip. The little hints and clues he picked up from their interactions made Oliver want to know more. He wanted Connor to open up, like the last time they went into Philly, Connor was relaxed, defenses down. It was the same when they stayed up late on the phone, the only time Connor could really text or speak at length.

Though there was a voice at the back of Oliver's mind that told him to relax, be patient. That everything would come in time, including an answer to what their relationship was. Oliver had never met someone as fascinating as Connor Walsh, someone he instantly clicked with, could easily fall into flirty games and taunts with... he wondered what Connor thought of him.

Oliver's eyes wandered over Connor, staring up those lean arms, halfway exposed under rolled up sleeves. His gaze strayed on the immaculate style of his hair and some stubble that was growing on his chin and, unashamedly, the seat of his pants.

“Hey...” Oliver prompted after a long silence.

Connor hummed, angling his head slightly.

Licking his lips, Oliver contemplated how to phrase his curiosity.

“Have you ever gotten a blow job while driving?”

Connor's attention was on him immediately, lips parted in quiet shock... which slowly morphed into curious interest.

“No...” It was like Connor forced himself to look back to the road, cocking an eyebrow as he peeked back over at Oliver. “Have you?”

Oliver threaded his fingers together in his lap, swallowing. “Yeah.”

Connor's eyes were on him again, speaking with evident surprise. “Really?”

Oliver nodded. “Yeah, my ex did it.”

A pause filled the air, heavy with question and implication.

“What did it feel like?”

Oliver shrugged, pretending like it was no big deal. Ignoring how his fingers itched to reach out and touch, how his pulse raced through his veins, making his brain spin.

“No different than usual... except you still need to keep your focus on the road, lest you crash and die.”

“Is that all?”

Their eyes met again, holding on longer than was safe, but thankfully Connor's car remained in its lane, and traffic was light. Oliver stared back, wondering what his face betrayed. He felt warmth pooling in his lower stomach, watching Connor watch him, feeding off the sudden fervid tension in the car before Connor finally looked away, back to the road. Oliver exhaled like he had been released from a trance.

“It's actually very thrilling,” Oliver's voice was barely above a whisper as his left hand crept out, crossing the gear stick and landing on Connor's thigh.

Connor's preemptive gasp sent a thrill through Oliver, giving him a confidence boost. He moved his hand slowly, splaying his fingers out to get a hold around Connor's thigh and squeezing. Oliver's eyes never left Connor's face, watching how his brows shot up, lips parting as his breathing became shallow. His hand descended around to Connor's inner thigh, delighted how his knees parted, spreading himself wide for Oliver.

Oliver moved his hand up, tired of going slow and surrounding it over Connor's bulge, fondling it gently.

He heard Connor's breath hitch.

“Ollie...” Connor nearly moaned, his eyes glazing over but still trained forward.

Oliver took his time to feel the outline of Connor's cock. This was his first time touching Connor, even if through layers of cloth. It was exhilarating to watch Connor's usual collected composure crack, to feel Connor growing beneath his touch.

A part of Oliver wanted to ask if this was alright, or to ask if he could take this further. He was always so used to asking for permission, worried about crossing boundaries, scared of being too _bold_ , as if that were a thing.

The way Connor responded to his touch wasn't like anyone Oliver had been with before, where he felt he had to _ask_ to continue. He didn't need to ask with Connor. The way he looked over, briefly at Oliver, eyes dark, told him exactly what he had to do.

His hand was joined by Connor's, helping to undo the belt, button, and zipper, shimmying the slacks down a bit as quickly and carefully as possible, before Connor's hand replaced itself at the wheel.

Without much preamble, Oliver reached past Connor's boxer briefs to take out his half hard cock, stroking it slowly.

Connor's jaw dropped silently, and Oliver was suddenly grateful for the distraction of driving, so Connor wouldn't see the way Oliver stared at his cock.

Switching his touch from a feather light caress, petting Connor's penis teasingly, to surrounding his hand around it and squeezing, Oliver's mouth went dry as he watched Connor come full mast within seconds.

“Damn, Connor,” Oliver murmured.

A hint of a smug smile managed to break through Connor's foggy composure.

Oliver snapped his seat belt off, scanning the road quickly and leaning over, pressing a kiss to Connor's shoulder, then to the side of his head, licking the shell of his ear along with a hard stroke of his wrist that had Connor visibly shudder, eye lids drooping.

“Pay attention, Connor,” Oliver whispered, continuing to kiss down Connor's neck while he switched his left hand for his right, getting a tighter grip on Connor.

“'Kay,” Connor sighed, shoulders dropping and neck tilting to allow Oliver's mouth further access.

The urge to bite the skin at Connor's neck, to suck a mark and claim him, was nearly unbearable. He wanted to tarnish that unblemished skin with mouth-shaped bruises, announcing to everyone what he'd done and that this was his; Connor was _his_.

Instead he gave a quick nip behind Connor's ear, one he knew would fade fast under the protection of dark hair. Oliver felt the shiver that wracked through Connor at the bite, causing a pleasurable whine from the student and his fingers to grip tightly on the wheel.

Oliver moved down then, as much as he enjoyed taking apart Connor with kisses (and he'd remember that location for later), he wanted to know how Connor tasted, how he reacted to his tongue, and wanted to hear him come undone.

The side of his head brushed the steering wheel as he descended, pressing wet kisses down Connor's shaft and back up, circling the head with the tip of his tongue and grinning at the unmistakable groan of pleasure from above.

“Oliver...” Connor panted. He didn't need to say more for Oliver to know what he wanted, what he needed.

Moving his hand to rest on Connor's knee, Oliver surround Connor's cock with his mouth, sinking all the way down so his nose brushed the metal zipper of his pants.

“ _Ahh_...” Connor cried out softly, almost like an exhale. His hand fell atop Oliver's head, threading his fingers through his hair.

Oliver felt delirious with raw want. He'd never been the biggest fan of giving head, but the obscene noises Connor made as Oliver's sucked, pressing his tongue hard as he dragged it up and down Connor's cock, could turn Oliver into an addict. And the build up from waiting and guessing about how big Connor could be, how he'd look and taste had created a hype that Connor definitely held up to.

Even though the setting could have been a bit more... spacious. Oliver craved more, wanted to feel and taste beyond Connor's member, eager to pleasure him further but with Connor's pants still firmly hugging his hips (even if a bit low), the steering wheel moving against his right ear, and the gear shift digging into his ribs, the option just wasn't possible.

So Oliver made do, replacing his hand over the base of Connor's cock and gripping hard as he quickened his pace, hallowing out his cheeks and bobbing up and down, his fist following along.

Connor's responding moan was absolutely salacious. Oliver wondered if he was hamming it up at all, knowing his current skills were limited to the predicament.

Then, with lightning speed, Connor's hands left his hair, taking hold of the steering wheel again as the car suddenly veered right and Oliver heard the blare of someone's horn shoot by along with a colorful string of curse words from Connor.

Oliver's heart leapt in fear, eyes wide. He detached his mouth.

“Everything alright up there?”

“Shit,” Connor breathed, followed by a breathless chuckle. “Hold on...”

Oliver felt the car slow, sensing Connor put his turn signal on and pull over to the side of the road. He sat up, noticing with a sly grin as Connor put the car in park, turned his hazards on, and unbuckled his own seat belt.

“This is a great way for a cop to catch us, you know.”

“Just be fast.” And without warning, Connor grabbed Oliver's face, pulling him in for an open mouthed kiss that indeed, was not wasting a damn second.

Oliver kissed back roughly, feeling arousal stir in his pants and making him moan into Connor's mouth, turning his body so he was halfway on top of Connor.

“C'mon.” Connor licked Oliver's lips. He pulled his seat back and shuffled his pants further down, giving Oliver more to work with.

Oliver wanted to give another smart remark about how this totally defeated the purpose of getting blown _while driving_ , but couldn't help a smirk anyway.

“Couldn't do it, huh?”

Connor huffed, getting impatient. “When _you_ see your life flash before your eyes-- _haa_.”

Oliver's mouth was back on him, fighting down a cheeky grin as he took Connor to the hilt, swallowing around his cock head while simultaneously getting a hand around Connor's balls.

Connor absolutely came apart above him, every curse, praise, and broken versions of Oliver's name encouraged him to get creative while he worked. He moaned around Connor's cock, pulling up slowly, dragging his tongue along the underside and dipping it into the slit, tasting precum before going back down, repeating the process faster and with more pressure.

Keeping one hand caressing his balls, which were tightening up to Connor's body, Oliver put his free hand to work slipping it under Connor's shirt and feeling up his stomach, soft yet toned, to his chest where he pinched a nipple.

“ _Ollie_ , please...” Connor begged, his fingers back in Oliver's hair and the other gripping Oliver's hand feebly over his shirt. He began thrusting up, meeting Oliver's mouth every time it came down.

Blinking back tears-- Oliver really had been out of practice-- he slipped his hand away from Connor's chest and around his wet cock again, squeezing and going back to the routine before they almost collided into another car.

The way Connor whined, shamelessly vocalizing his pleasure went straight to Oliver's dick, getting him rock hard in seconds while he continued pumping and sucking Connor's cock. The obscene, wet sounds mixed in the hum of the engine, the music that still played through the speakers, and the occasional car that zoomed by.

Oliver wondered what Connor's face looked like as he gave one final cry, fingers gripping so tight in his hair that it almost hurt, as he felt his cock pulsate with release, swallowing it down eagerly. Surely anyone passing by could see Connor's complete lack of self control, the way his face contorted, eyelids fluttering and jaw unhinged. Oliver felt envious of those people driving by, watching Connor come, his gorgeous face giving away everything. It was something Oliver was dying to see.

Next time.

Oliver leaned back with a long lick that made Connor shudder, over sensitive.

“Holy shit,” Connor panted, wrapping an arm around Oliver's shoulders and pulling him back in for a kiss that was mostly tongue. It made Oliver want to cross the gap and straddle Connor's lap.

“Where have you been all my life?” Connor grinned, still blissed out. Oliver laughed at that.

“It- I wasn't _that_ good.” Oliver blushed, averting his eyes.

“Are you kidding?” Connor turned Oliver's face toward him again, his dark, tired eyes refocusing, suddenly becoming serious.

“Oliver. I... think I found God.”

Oliver burst into a fit of giggles, rolling his eyes. Connor was smiling too.

“Seriously though...” Connor gave Oliver another chaste kiss. “Praise be.”

“Shut up,” Oliver mumbled, still grinning.

After making himself presentable again, scooting his seat up, ready to buckle his seat belt, Connor's eyes finally found the bulge in Oliver's lap. Their eyes met and Connor was grinning again.

“Want me to return the favor?” His hand was already on Oliver's knee.

Oliver licked his dry lips, thinking about it while Connor's hand slowly moved up, his fingers acting like legs walking up Oliver's thigh.

Oliver's hand fell over Connor's, lacing their fingers together. His heart gave a nervous stutter at the way Connor's eyes fell to their intertwined hands, intimately resting on Oliver's lap. The look he gave Oliver as their eyes met again was almost... fond.

“You know, I said today was my treat.”

Oliver sighed, relaxing against his seat.

“You can pay me back later.”

Grinning, eyes still soft, Connor slipped his hand from Oliver's to get the car back on the road. But once they were going again, Oliver bit back his own grin as Connor snuck his hand back out, grabbing Oliver's and holding it there until they reached their destination.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet the parents and Connor suffers from blue balls! (Until he doesn't!)
> 
> Whew... nearly 11k this chapter! Hope this was worth the wait :D
> 
> Also, please pardon the Tagalog, I used Google (and check out those updated tags wooo)

Oliver snuck a sideways glance at Connor, who was casually lapping up his own soft serve ice cream, vanilla. They were on the hood of Connor's car, leaning back against the windshield, parked under a canopy of pine trees off the dirt parking lot of Auntie's Ice Cream.

Sensing he was being watched, Connor stopped licking to meet Oliver's eyes.

“What?”

Oliver looked back to his vanilla/chocolate swirl cone. It was too cold for ice cream, but during the winter and spring was when Oliver always craved it, he wondered if Connor was the same.

“Do you bring all the guys you... see, here?” Oliver bit his lip, trying to hold back his insecurity.

Connor raised an eyebrow. “The guys I _see_? Not sure what that means...” He snorted. “But if you mean bang, then no. I like coming here alone.”

 _So what does that make me?_ Oliver wondered, getting back to work on his own ice cream.

After a long silence, both men nearly finished with their treats, Connor spoke up.

“Do you think your brother would like me?” He was staring at his rice cone, turning it around in his fingers.

Oliver blinked at Connor, curious where that came from.

“I don't know...” Oliver trailed off. “I've never introduced him to my exes.”

Connor's head lolled to the side, watching Oliver. “Does he know you're gay?”

Oliver shrugged, leaning back all the way to meet Connor's gaze. “I think so. Never told him explicitly, but he'd always tease me growing up, about getting a boyfriend.” He grinned, remembering. “But never when our parents were around.”

Connor grinned too, catching Oliver's.

“Would your sister like me?” Oliver threw back, beginning to nibble on the sweet, sticky cone.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Connor answered immediately. “She's all about the sweet, innocent type.”

Oliver laughed. “To balance your bad boy behavior?”

“That's right,” Connor smirked wickedly, playing it up. He dropped what was left of his ice cream cone on the ground and rolled over to hover above Oliver, the car hood groaning in protest.

Oliver's heart hammered in his chest, watching Connor with nervous eyes.

“What are you doing-”

“Relax,” Connor spoke softly, leaning down to brush his nose against Oliver's.

Oliver wasn't sure how to relax with Connor on top of him, in the middle of the day, hiding behind an ice cream shop.

Slowly, with his gaze fixed on Oliver, Connor lowered himself, slotting his front against Oliver's. The college student gasped, dropping his own cone to hold onto Connor's hips.

“Don't,” Oliver warned.

“No one can see us.”

“You don't know that.” Oliver's jaw dropped as Connor rolled his hips in an experimental grind.

Oliver's head fell back against the windshield. “Connor...” He wasn't sure if that was a warning or a beg to continue.

Lips fell upon Oliver's exposed neck and he moaned softly, his fingers slipping under Connor's jacket and shirt to touch warm skin.

“Fuck...” Connor whispered, his forehead resting against Oliver's shoulder. “I want you so bad.”

Oliver swallowed, finding himself again. “We need to wait.”

Connor groaned miserably, giving up and slumping his body flat over Oliver's, who gave an understanding laugh. Oliver pinched the skin between his fingers, causing Connor to yelp softly, rolling off Oliver in the opposite direction, landing with a huff on the ground. Oliver sat up fully, watching.

“Follow me.” Connor took Oliver's hand, pulling him off the car and leading him into the woods.

Oliver looked around, no one was near, but just beyond the hanging tree branches and around the building he heard people talking, kids laughing...

“This is stupid.” But Oliver kept up with Connor anyway. “We're not having sex in the woods.”

“Of course not.” Connor looked back at Oliver with a face of, _can you imagine how that would dirty my suit?_

Oliver stumbled, trying to keep up, as the sound of chatter became dimmer and dimmer.

“Then what-”

“I just want to kiss you.” Connor finally stopped, turning around fully, leaning back against a tree, and pulling Oliver towards him.

Oliver stepped slowly, his nerves fading with a growing smile. He chuckled, letting himself be pulled into Connor's embrace, where he complied, kissing those grinning lips.

* * *

 

The days passed sluggishly, Connor and Oliver exchanging minimal texts during the day (and keeping each other up late with lewd promises). At one point, Oliver thought about dropping in on Connor at school, maybe give him a new, lasting experience behind those dumb bleachers, but thought better of it.

Oliver's parents kept him busy enough to demolish any hopes of leaving the house on his own anyway. All at once Oliver was reminded of the main reason he liked staying on campus during the spring holiday... and not just to catch up on his work.

His father loved putting Oliver to use in chopping wood for the stove, carrying it from the chopping block outside into the log storage on the porch. Fixing the gutter or other would-rather-not-do house work. His mother, however, was less physical labor, and more boring activities. Pre-gardening for summer, cleaning, going through Oliver's old stuff (aka finding things to throw out).

Though he was perfectly content to help in the kitchen. Oliver had always been thankful for his mother's ability to cook, passing the skills onto him naturally.

Oliver was helping set up the table, when his mother spoke.

“ _Mahal ko,_ _Nag-ehersisyo ka ba?_ ”

“Uh...” Oliver gave a short laugh. His mother huffed in mock irritation.

“ _Hindi gaano..._ ” Oliver responded slowly, his Filipino accent at least in tact.

His mother _tsk'd_. “Your father knows more Tagalog than you.”

Oliver took a peek at his father, who shrugged.

“Well, you have known each other longer,” Oliver supplied, smiling at his mom.

Oliver's father had also been to the Philippines, where he met Mahalia, his mother. She would usually try to squeeze some words out of Oliver every now and then, make sure he was practicing. It was very important for her children to have an understanding of their native tongue, which Oliver found noble... it was just difficult when there was no one but his mom to practice with.

After a quick prayer, thanking God for the food, they started eating. Not long into dinner however, Oliver's phone buzzed in his pocket.

Peeking at his parents, making sure they were still engrossed in their conversation, Oliver checked his phone under the table, and had to bite back a snort.

 _We're at an Italian place tonight. Is it weird that the breadsticks remind me of your dick?_ From Connor, of course.

_You haven't even seen my dick._

_Yet ;)_

“Oliver.”

Oliver's head snapped up, the grin he was wearing wiped from his face. He stared back into his father's eyes.

“Somewhere else you'd rather be?” He asked, taking a sip of his water. Oliver nearly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Even his mother shook her head lightly, knowing it wasn't a big deal (but not interjecting).

“No,” Oliver said slowly, with an undertone of irritation. He always found it annoying how his father constantly found something to subtly nitpick Oliver about.

Sensing the tension in the air, Oliver's mother chirped up.

“How's Connor?” She leaned forward, beaming.

Oliver stammered, surprised. “F-fine.” He pocketed his phone just as it vibrated again.

His mom sighed in delight. “It's good to see you with a boy your age, and a Christian too!” She nodded to her husband, who was relaxing in his chair again.

Oliver hummed in agreement, forcing himself to take a bite of his food.

“But you can at least wait to text him back until after dinner,” he father said coolly, eyes down onto his own plate as he cut into the steak.

Something like anger passed through Oliver. How dare his father assume automatically he was texting Connor? Then a wave of nausea flew over him; had Connor and him been obvious?

“Actually...” Oliver started, but hung his mouth open, unsure what he was going to say. Both his parent's eyes were on him, waiting. Oliver swallowed. He just had the knee jerk reaction to defend himself, deny talking to Connor, but he only now realized he shouldn't be bringing attention to it.

“Uh, I asked Connor if he wanted to help me renovate Caden's room tomorrow, and he said yes.”

A lie, obviously. His mother gave a pleased sound, nodding. His father went back to his food.

As Oliver's mother went on about how she'll have to make something special for dinner tomorrow, Oliver tapped his fork against his plate, his appetite suddenly gone. Flipping his older brother's room had been in the planning stage for a long time. Since Caden hardly ever came home, his parents knew now was the best time to turn the old bedroom into a study.

Oliver didn't dare touch his phone again until he was safely in bed, biting his lip as he texted Connor.

_Hey, I have a huge favor to ask of you._

Oliver waited an agonizing three minutes for Connor to reply.

_Okay?_

_Can you come over tomorrow?_

_Oh babe, I'd love to. But I need a good excuse for my dad._

_Well..._ Oliver was chewing on his lip now, certain Connor would get pissed.

 _I accidentally volunteered you to help in renovating my brother's old room. It'll take all day._ Oliver sent that then started up another.

_It was a heat of the moment thing. I panicked cos dad was getting suspicious of how often I texted you and blurted out that I was just asking you to help me tomorrow. I'm sorry. I know you just started spring break too._

Not long after, Connor responded.

_Lol dude, it's fine. I don't mind a little work out if it means seeing you all sweaty._

Oliver sighed in relief, relaxing finally.

_You're a life saver._

_Haha, nah. I owe you one anyway ;)_

Oliver grinned, staring at the screen. Then he had a thought, sending a quick message before Connor had time to change the topic.

_And wear something you don't mind getting dirty._

* * *

 

It honestly wasn't fair that Connor could look amazing both in a tailored suit, and in a tattered black t-shirt and ripped jeans. Oliver swallowed spit he felt pooling in his mouth when he answered the door to Connor the next day.

Connor winked. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Oliver managed to find his voice, collecting himself as Connor's smile sharpened. The shirt Connor wore was ripped along the collar, faded and well worn. The symbol on the front looked like something that belonged to a rock band.

Oliver forced his gaze away as he invited Connor in, grateful that he took his shoes off without being asked.

“Parents home?” Connor asked, conversationally.

“Dad's at work, mom's in the backyard right now.”

Connor clicked his tongue. “Shame.”

Oliver looked over at Connor to find him grinning mischievously.

“Don't even think about it,” Oliver said, lowering his voice. He led them into the living room, then out the back, hovering by a pair of sliding glass doors.

“Not even one bad thought while we're in my parent's house.”

Connor gave a mock sheepish look. “Too late.”

Oliver rolled his eyes but was smiling, turning the bronze handle and leading them into the backyard to show his mother who had arrived.

They spent the morning emptying out Caden's old room, packing oddities left behind into boxes and pushing furniture out into the hallway or living room, which the boys and Mrs. Hampton had rearranged to fit the temporary arrivals. Although Oliver had opened a few windows for fresh air, a crisp breeze blowing in every now and then, Connor and him were warm from all the activity and heavy lifting by noon.

Connor's hair, which hadn't been gelled when he arrived, hung loose and wild around his face, eventually losing it's natural volume as sweat beaded down his forehead. Oliver had to constantly avoid looking at Connor, because all he wanted to do was run his fingers through that thick mane and pull and play with it.

Thankfully, Oliver's mom had noticed Connor's struggling and offered the teen a headband to push his bangs back, which made Connor look ridiculous enough to quell the desires rushing around Oliver's brain.

When his mother was out of earshot, Oliver felt Connor come close, whispering in his ear.

“Am I pretty?”

Oliver peeked sideways and noticed Connor making an exaggerated face while posing his hands on the floral headband in his hair.

Oliver grinned. “You're adorable.”

Connor looked as though he might refute that, when Oliver's mother spoke loudly from outside the room.

“What do you boys want for lunch?”

Connor stepped away just as Mrs. Hampton rounded the corner and stood at the doorway.

“I was thinking pizza,” she continued on, looking elated. Oliver had to chuckle, he couldn't remember the last time he ate pizza in this house, nearly everything was home cooked meals. Clearly she was trying to impress Connor by assuming what all American boys enjoyed.

“Pizza sounds amazing.” Connor folded his arms over his stomach, and Oliver heard the tall tale sound of grumbling.

After voting for toppings (settling on pepperoni and mushroom), Mrs. Hampton left to pick up the large pie while Connor and Oliver stayed behind to ready the bedroom for painting.

Oliver felt Connor's eyes on him but deftly ignored it, concentrating on keeping the lines he made with the blue tape nice and straight. He was stretching up, wondering if he could reach the molding that touched the ceiling, when Oliver felt two arms wrap around his midsection and Connor's body press tightly against his back.

Nearly losing his balance, Oliver dropped the blue tape and grabbed onto Connor's hands, which resolutely would not budge from their snare.

“Connor,” Oliver said, trying to sound agitated but his tone was light.

“Oliver.” Connor's grin could be heard through his lips, which began planting butterfly kisses down Oliver's neck.

Biting back a gasp, Oliver attempted to lean away from Connor's distracting mouth. “Stop, we can't here.”

“C'mon,” Connor's voice was a barely concealed whine. “She'll be gone for what, 20 minutes? We have time.” At this his hands lowered, playing with the hem of Oliver's sweat pants.

When Connor's fingers snuck below the waist band of his sweats, warm skin caressing along his hip bones, Oliver shivered.

“It's too risky,” Oliver sighed, his head falling lightly against Connor's, who, to Oliver's surprise, nuzzled his way to Oliver's mouth, breathing against his lips.

“Then why aren't you stopping me?”

Oh, Oliver wanted to give in. Connor was so good at making him melt, making Oliver forget and the smug man knew it. He could taste Connor's lips, feel his crotch settled into his ass and so badly wanted to stick it out, to have Connor push him against the wall and _grind_.

And maybe Connor could read his thoughts because just then his fingers gripped Oliver's hips and he thrust forward, causing Oliver to stumble, planting a hand on the wall in front of him.

“You are very hard to stop.” Oliver smiled, though it was foggy. He shook his head to clear his mind.

“With the way your ass sticks out in these,” Connor's thumbs hooked over the hem of Oliver's pants. “Can you blame me for making it... _hard_.”

Oliver turned his head again, finding Connor's smirk.

“That was terrible.”

“It was hilarious and you know it.” Connor's chin notched itself over Oliver's shoulder. “Now are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Maybe it was the bad pun, but Oliver managed to snap out of it, shaking his head again and giving a torn sigh.

“We really can't, I'm sorry.”

Connor visibly deflated, his head falling to press against Oliver's shoulder blade.

“You're killing me.”

Oliver smiled, amused and frustrated himself, as he took Connor's wrists and pulled them out from his sweat pants.

“You'll live.” Oliver couldn't help but tease a little. He turned around and leaned against the wall, Connor remained standing in front of him.

“I've never had to wait this long...” Connor grumbled. Oliver felt a flicker of anger at his words.

“If you're so impatient--”

“I'm not--” Connor interrupted, snapping his own mouth shut before he could finish and sighing roughly, pulling a hand through his hair and accidentally taking the headband off.

“Sorry,” Connor mumbled, fretting with the silky headpiece. “I didn't mean anything by it.”

Oliver watched Connor, who was studying the fabric in his hands, and sighed again. There was a lot he still needed to learn about Connor, but he was thankful that the promiscuous youth at least could recognize when he was being unfair.

He stepped forward, taking Connor's face in his hands and leaning down to kiss him, soft and slow. Connor reciprocated, following Oliver's speed, moving his lips leisurely, pressing hard but not intensive.

Just as Connor's arms wrapped around his neck, Oliver slowed and pulled back with a small sound of separation.

“I want you too, you know?” Oliver whispered huskily.

“You do?” Connor's voice startled Oliver. It was... small, uncertain. So unlike anything he'd heard out of Connor so far.

“Yeah.” As he said this, Oliver's hands reached past Connor's ears and into his hairline, where he finally tangled his fingers in that thick dark hair.

“I... really like you.” Oliver bit his lip, wondering if right now was the best time to admit his feelings.

Connor blinked owlishly. Oliver's heart nearly burst from his chest he was so nervous. Now had definitely not been the right moment. The last time a guy told Connor he liked him, Connor had deleted his number and stopped speaking to them. He told Oliver this himself over the phone last week, an inconsequential detail while whining about pros and cons about sleeping with straight men. Something said in a boring tone, like Connor was picking his nails while he said it. The statement had sat with Oliver all night, worrying into his head like a worm.

Connor's lips parted to speak, but just then the sound of the front door opening made them freeze up, then Mrs. Hampton announcing it was break time made them pull apart quickly, awkwardly smoothing down their clothes or running fingers through hair.

Connor turned and left the room first, giving Oliver an indiscernible look before disappearing into the hallway. Oliver knocked his head back and groaned, pulling his hands through his hair and scratching his scalp roughly before following.

During lunch Oliver wanted to slink down his chair and under the table, but for the sake of appearance attempted to smile and thank his mother and nod along to the small chit chat happening between her and Connor.

“So you're a senior now!” Mrs. Hampton turned her full attention to Connor, having only had one slice of pizza. “Have you decided what college you will attend?”

Oliver's eyes flicked from his mother's to Connor, nibbling on his crust.

“I've sent applications to several, but I'm hoping to get into Columbia, in New York.” If something was bothering Connor, it didn't reflect in his answer. He smiled and addressed Mrs. Hampton with perfect politeness.

She hummed approvingly. “But why so far? Your father will miss you, I'm sure.”

At this, Connor's mask chipped, one of his eyebrows twitching.

“I just...” He touched his pizza slice as if to pick it up, but dropped his hand. “Like the city.” He finished lamely.

Oliver looked back and forth between the two of them. He saw his mother studying Connor and knew she was about to pry so he spoke up first.

“What are you going for?”

Connor met his eyes immediately. They hadn't talked about Connor's future yet, not really, and it was something Oliver was very interested in. Oliver hoped it wasn't too dick of a move to ask Connor now, where he was sure he'd answer since his mom started it.

“Uh, English literature,” Connor answered, not as coolly as he sounded before.

“Oh! Do you want to teach?” Mrs. Hampton sat up a little straighter, her interest piqued.

Connor shook his head with a forgiving smile. “No, I'm not very good... it's just something for the time being... unless I end up really liking English, we'll see...” He rambled on, scratching the back of his neck and looking at his plate.

Oliver looked away from Connor as his mother looked over at him. There was more he wanted to ask, but the lingering awkwardness from before still hung between the two men and Oliver didn't want to make it heavier, or worse, obvious in front of his mom.

Mrs. Hampton called it a day after Connor and Oliver finished prepping the walls and finishing one side. Connor politely declined the offer to stay for dinner, which Oliver was mildly grateful for, as his father would be home soon. He wondered if that was the reason Connor wanted to leave, unwilling to keep up this charade in front of Oliver's father, or because of the new tension between them.

Connor hadn't brought up Oliver's confession, not that Oliver was eager to discuss it with his mother in the house, but he'd been distant all the same. The forced small talk and odd jokes exchanged over the remaining hours made a knot of worry form in Oliver's stomach. He wanted so desperately to talk to Connor about it, but the day was over, and now he'd have to wait til who knows when to initiate... _whatever_ , again.

Oliver was curious enough to almost ask Connor if he could walk him to his car, where they could have some alone time away from the listening walls of the house, but knew that'd be unusual. So Oliver said bye to Connor at the door, thanking him for all his help.

Connor had nodded, some of the tension fading away as he stood at the kitchen’s entrance.

“Ah, you still have mom's headband...”

Before he realized what he was doing, Oliver reached up and tugged the fabric from Connor's hair, fingers briefly tangled in the soft strands.

Connor's eyes blew wide just as Oliver felt his heart leap. They both conspicuously turned to look past the kitchen into the living room, where Mrs. Hampton was fussing with the TV, not paying them any attention.

They shared a quiet laugh of relief, the stress of the day finally relaxing Connor's shoulders and forming a real smile on Oliver's face.

“Text me?” Oliver asked softly, folding the headband in his hands.

“I will.” Connor smiled back, lips curling without any spark of flirtation, just fondness.

They stood still for an excruciating couple seconds, eyes flicking down and back up. The urge to kiss Connor goodbye was painful, and he figured Connor was having the same dilemma, which perked up Oliver's mood slightly.

“See you later,” Connor finally said, his voice soft yet heavy. Oliver nodded, and watched Connor turn and leave.

The texts between them later that night were predictable and flirty, and without a hint of what Oliver had said to Connor that day. It was enough to keep Oliver awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning. Why wouldn't Connor bring it up? Was it something he'd rather discuss in person? Or did the youth enjoy avoiding serious conversations?

Not that Oliver was doing any better, but he didn't think he needed to bring it up again, _I really like you_ , in order to talk about it more, explain himself and ask Connor how _he_ felt. The remainder of the week passed like nothing had happened. Oliver asked what Connor's favorite books were ( _American Psycho_ and _To Kill a Mockingbird_ ), when was the last time he saw his mother (during Christmas), how old is Gemma (28).

Oliver found it interesting that Connor was suddenly answering personal questions about himself and his family... it was usually a topic Connor adamantly avoided or swerved toward something else. Was it to placate Oliver to not bring up his confession, or _because_ he had told Connor he liked him? By Friday Oliver was amping himself up to confront the situation, when Connor asked him if he would like to spend the night on Saturday.

After the initial shock of the question, Connor explained that it was actually his father's idea, and then they could all go to church together on Sunday morning.

“ _Just two boys having a sleepover, nothing gay about that,_ ” Connor had sniggered into the phone. “ _We can play video games or watch TV or play Bible Monopoly with my dad._ ”

“Please tell me that's not a real thing,” Oliver grinned. He was walking down the road where his parent's lived.

Oliver could hear Connor's smirk as he spoke. “ _Probably not, but he does like Scrabble and will most likely rope you into playing with us._ ”

And that's how Oliver found himself in Connor's car the next day, being driven to his house (it was planned that Oliver would go home with his parent's after church so he didn't bring his own car). But not before they pulled off the side of the road for a brief makeout session.

Oliver gulped dramatically, walking up the steps to Connor's lavish front porch with only his messenger bag carrying a change of clothes for Sunday.

“Are you sure your dad isn't just planning some low key interrogation of me?” He whispered to Connor before he could open the door.

Connor grinned. “Doubt it. It's not like you're my girlfriend.” He winked and opened the door, motioning for Oliver to step in first.

Oliver tried not to gape at how immaculate the Walsh house was. His socked feet padded lightly on the polished hardwood of the foyer leading into the living room with large windows across from the entertainment center which homed a huge TV with endless bookshelves of texts and DVDs alike.

His fingers dragged along the back of a brown leather sofa as Oliver followed Connor into the dining room, where his father sat at a long table surrounded by papers and a handful of books. Mr. Walsh looked up as the two entered, taking off his glasses and smiling amiably.

“Hello, Oliver. Nice to see you again.”

Oliver swallowed and hoped he didn't look as nervous as he felt. “You too, sir.”

“Family is doing well?” He laced his fingers together, propping his chin atop them.

He looked mildly interested, Mr. Walsh. Connor looked a lot like him, thick dark hair, sharp jaw, same nose... looking into Pastor Walsh's brown eyes was almost eerie, Oliver had a fleeting thought of how Connor would look after 20 or so years. Would Connor have his father's receding hairline? The wrinkles under his eyes? Bushy, low hanging brows? Oliver hoped not... he didn't see any fire in Mr. Walsh's eyes, no spark of excitement; a man bored, but with an air of self righteousness, confidence, charisma. Oliver could see where Connor got it all.

Oliver nodded. “Yeah. Uh, dad's getting a promotion at work.”

Mr. Walsh's eyes lit up. “Oh, well give him my congratulations.”

Oliver nodded again. He felt his palms starting to sweat. He didn't know what else to say, and Mr. Walsh was staring up at him expectantly.

“Dad, I'm gonna show Oliver the guest room.” Connor jumped in, taking a step toward the stairs.

Mr. Walsh made a noncommittal noise, looking back down at his paperwork, putting together a sermon, no doubt.

“Alright, have fun. We'll talk more over dinner, Oliver.” He addressed the college student once more before dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

Oliver managed not to stumble as he followed Connor up the stairs, his heart going a mile a minute, before Connor finally walked him to a bedroom and closing the door quietly.

“Jesus,” Connor chuckled softly, turning to Oliver with skeptical apprehension. “I thought you were gonna faint.”

Oliver exhaled a very loud breath, dropping his bag and collapsing onto the neatly made queen sized bed. His back hit the soft comforters with a _poof_ sound.

“That was so awkward, I regret coming here,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and stretching his arms out.

“Relax, you did fine.” Oliver felt Connor step close, his knees bumping into his, which dangled off the bed.

Oliver huffed. “I can't relax. How are you supposed to act around the guy who's son you want to bone?”

Silence fell after a brief snicker. Then, “Ollie,” Connor's voice softened, sounding much closer. Oliver opened his eyes just as Connor climbed onto the bed, hovering over him with one knee bent between his legs.

Oliver's hands shot to Connor's arms.

“Hell no, Connor.”

Connor smirked like the devil himself. “What, this again?”

“Connor!” Oliver hissed, glaring with all his might.

Connor rolled his eyes, leaning back to stand over the bed again.

“I'm just teasing you.” But as he said this, Connor reached forward and firmly gripped Oliver's upper thighs, thumbs dangerously close to his crotch, and dragged his hands down to his knees, where he gave a final squeeze. Oliver's breathing hitched, jaw dropping.

With a lingering caress and a long stare, Connor released Oliver's legs, giving his knee a light slap. “C'mon, I'll show you around.”

He turned and left the room, expecting Oliver to follow, but the young man was frozen to the spot, half sitting up and suddenly half turned on.

At least Connor managed to quell Oliver's anxiety. Walking around the spacious house, exploring the backyard and flipping through Connor's video game collection (which was sparse), thoroughly distracted Oliver. Not to mention how Oliver had to pick up most of the slack while playing Borderlands.

It was almost easy to forget that Connor's father was even there... almost.

“By the way,” Connor leaned over, talking quietly in Oliver's ear while he mowed down some enemies. “My dad's a terrible cook. I apologize in advance.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow at Connor and chuckled with a shrug. He didn't say anything, but found it amusing that Mr. Walsh was making them dinner as a “terrible cook,” when his mom, who was a fantastic chef, ordered pizza the other day.

Dinner was, indeed, bland. Not terrible, edible, but the fact that Mr. Walsh couldn't season chicken took him down a few pegs and made facing him in table conversation easier.

“So, Oliver,” Mr. Walsh started, seated across from Oliver and Connor. “You go to MIT?”

“Ah, yes.” Oliver bit his tongue to not address him as “sir,” Connor had told him it was too awkward. “My major is Electrical Engineering and Computer Science.”

He noticed briefly that Connor grinned, and shoved a piece of broccoli in his mouth to hide it.

“Impressive,” Mr. Walsh nodded, approving. Oliver thought about telling him that he was contemplating minoring in Theater Arts, just to see if _that_ was impressive, but thought better of it.

“Do you find time to go to church, or are is there a Christian group on campus you've joined?”

 _Oh, God_. Oliver took an extra long time sipping his water. It was like speaking to his own father about his studies. Never mind how he built his own computer from scratch freshman year, or managed to hack into every network his classmates had created during lab this year. Never mind he had consecutively made Dean's List every semester so far and was currently developing his own app which, according to his professor, he could take beyond a class project and really make something out of.

“I find I'm too busy keeping up my studies to attend church these days,” Oliver answered honestly, calmly. “But there is an Adventist Christian fellowship on campus that meets every Wednesday and Friday for Bible study and plans small trips to spread the word of God.”

Connor blinked at him, not masking his surprise. Oliver looked over at him with a fake, cheery nod, swinging his knee sideways and bumping it into Connor's. He wasn't apart of the club, Oliver just had a knack of memorization and remembered reading about the program during one “Student Activity” day.

Mr. Walsh's attitude perked up immediately. “Oh well, that sounds fine. So you're still reading the Bible? That's good.”

“Mm...” Oliver took a bite of his food. “Sometimes Connor sends me verses or pages from his devotional to encourage me when I'm stressed out.”

Oliver grinned fiendishly, nearly repressing a giggle that bubbled in his throat. Connor kicked him under the table lightly.

“You are?” Mr. Walsh addressed his son. “I'm glad to hear it.”

Connor shrugged like _well, you know..._ and took a huge bite of his food. “Dinner is really good, by the way, dad.”

“Yeah, thanks Pastor Walsh,” Oliver chimed in, smiling. Inside he wondered if he perused the cabinet, if he'd find any garlic or oregano.

Mr. Walsh didn't smile but his eyes lit up, obviously pleased with the compliments.

After dinner was, as Connor had warned, a long game of Scrabble. Which prompted more dull conversation that Oliver had to carefully zig-zag his way around. To his surprise, but perhaps not really, Connor had won the match with the final word “maximization.”

“I underestimated your brain power,” Oliver commented, off hand, to Connor while they were brushing their teeth later.

Connor looked at Oliver in the mirror, toothbrush stuck in his mouth. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Oliver spat in the sink, running the tap. “What's your GPA?”

Connor rolled his eyes, vigorously scrubbing his tongue before spitting as well. “I'm Valedictorian; 4.0.”

Oliver went still, brows raised. “Seriously?” At Connor's unconcerned nod, Oliver laughed quietly. “That's cool. The smartest kids at my school were all mean and pretentious.”

“I am mean and pretentious,” Connor smirked, putting his toothbrush away and standing to full height in front of Oliver.

A slow smile curled up Oliver's mouth, staring down Connor. “Not to me.”

Connor “ _Hmm'd_ ,” considering Oliver. He looked over his shoulder, out of the open bathroom door, then back to Oliver, speaking in a hushed tone.

“I must like you then.”

 

 

 

Again, Oliver couldn't sleep.

It wasn't being in a new environment, or the nerves of being in Connor's house, or even that Connor's bedroom was just down the hall.

It was the text Connor sent him just as he had taken his contacts out and slipped under the covers.

_I'm waking you up in 3 hours._

Oliver hadn't responded. He didn't know what to say. And now his brain was buzzing with both excitement and anxiety. He had a few ideas _why_ Connor would be waking him up at 2 in the morning, none of which were harmless and easily explained... especially if they got caught.

He must have managed to doze off eventually, because before Oliver realized what was happening, a soft, warm pressure was pressing against his lips.

“Wha-”

“ _Shh_ ,” Connor's voice commanded in the darkness, going back in for another kiss, then another. Oliver felt a hand dip below the covers, sliding up his bare chest.

Oliver's hand weakly found the back of Connor's head, pulling him down further and leaning up into the kiss, biting back a moan as Connor's mouth fell open and his tongue slipped past.

Connor pulled back with a wet sound of detachment that felt much louder in the black silence than it was.

“Follow me,” Connor whispered, pulling Oliver's blanket off. Oliver fumbled for his bag, finding his hoodie and his glasses and slipping both on before quietly following Connor down the stairs, into the living room, where the men pulled their shoes on and Connor grabbed his keys, before heading out the front door.

The outside air was cold and smelled like wet grass. Oliver, still being quiet, followed closely behind Connor, his nerves singing.

They arrived at Connor's car, sitting in the driveway. Connor was manually putting his key in the lock when Oliver finally spoke up, whispering.

“Won't your dad hear your car start up?”

“I'm not turning it on.” Connor opened the front door, pressing the automatic locks button to release the back doors, and shutting it again very gently.

For being half asleep, Oliver managed to put the pieces together quickly.

“We're not having sex in your tiny ass car,” he hissed, crossing his arms. He didn't think he needed to mention that it was freezing out here.

Connor looked up at Oliver and did a double take.

“I didn't know you wore glasses.” He ignored Oliver's comment.

Oliver touched his frames subconsciously. “Well, I try not to...”

Connor left his car to walk up to Oliver, tugging on his hoodie to bring him close.

“They're hot as fuck.”

“You're ignoring me.” Oliver stated flatly, though the compliment made a tingling sensation in his lower belly.

Connor huffed, turning his body slightly. “It's not tiny. We can fold the seats down, it's very roomy.”

Oliver stared at Connor like he'd grown a second head. “No.”

Connor threw his head back dramatically. Oliver imagined a toddler not getting his way would be complete if Connor stamped his foot.

“Look,” Connor began to explain, hands out. “I've done it a million times, we'll fit, trust me.”

The thought of Connor doing it “a million times” with other men in his car made jealousy and hurt rush through Oliver. He didn't want to just be another guy Connor banged in his car. Oliver was starting to believe that they could actually be something more, and he refused to believe Connor would have stuck around this long otherwise.

The glare Oliver could feel his face contorting into must've come across loud and clear to Connor, who guiltily looked to the ground, lowering his voice further.

“Sorry, that was inappropriate...”

“How about this,” Oliver sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I'm not having sex with you while your dad is literally 20 feet away.” He gestured to the darkened house.

A moment of contemplative silence stretched between them. The stillness of the night was broken by a distant car driving by a block away, before Connor made a noise of resignment and nodded.

“Fair enough...” he muttered, stuffing his hands into his own sweatshirt pockets. His eyes began to scan the area. Oliver groaned inwardly. There wasn't any other options... but he was far too nervous of being caught to even consider Connor's car.

Then Connor's eyes fell onto something behind Oliver, and the corner of his mouth lifted into that sinister crooked smile.

“Wait here.” Before Oliver could ask, Connor dashed away, back around the house the way they came.

Oliver turned to spot what Connor had seen, but only saw the church about 25 yards away. He rubbed his hands together, but wasn't kept waiting long. Soon Connor reappeared, jogging up to Oliver.

“C'mon.” That wicked smirk hadn't left. If anything, it had grown wider, sharper. Oliver jogged to keep up with Connor, noticing he was carrying a new set of keys.

A horrifying suspicion crept up Oliver's neck as they neared the church. It was confirmed once Connor ran up the stone steps, keys rattling in his hand.

Oliver slowed, stepping slowly, craning his neck to stare up at the huge building, which was ornate with stain glass and holy sculptures.

“Connor...” Oliver started, finally making the last step just as Connor unlocked a door and pushed it open.

Connor turned to wait for Oliver, grinning. “What?”

Oliver spluttered. “' _What_ '?” His brows creased in worry. “This is not happening.”

“Oh come on, Ollie.” Connor nearly whined, stepping out to grab Oliver's hand and dragging him inside, shutting the door behind them.

They were washed in darkness. Oliver's heart thumped in his chest.

“My dick just shrank into my body. This is a horrible idea.” Oliver spoke fast, wringing his hands out and listening to Connor walk around the main room.

“Don't worry, no one's gonna find us here,” Connor called out after a moment, not bothering to keep his voice down. After some rummaging, Oliver heard a match strike and a little yellow flame emerge from the corner of the room.

Connor lit a candle, waving out the stick and dropping it, hopefully into a bin. “But we shouldn't turn the lights on anyway.”

Oliver was nearly scared silent. “God is watching!”

Even in the limited candlelight, Oliver saw Connor's face screw up, as if to say, _how preposterous_. He was walking into the chapel, pushing the doors open as he went, and Oliver could only follow, nearly losing his wits in the darkness.

Oliver stared around the massive room, a completely different look at night. The moon shone brightly above and glinted through the stain glass windows, dimly illuminating everything in soft colors. It was beautiful, but also erie.

“Connor, wait.” Oliver stumbled forward, stopping when Connor turned to face him.

The playful spark in Connor’s eyes was dimming, replaced by something like impatience, it was hard to tell in the limited light.

“I don’t know-”

“Live a little, Ollie,” Connor interrupted. He set the candle holder down on a pew, making sure it was steady, and stepped up to Oliver, snagging his glasses, folding them, and setting them gently next to the flame.

“Just… forget where we are, for a second.” Connor lowered his voice, leaning forward to rest his hands on Oliver’s hips, while brushing his lips along Oliver’s. “Look at me.”

Oliver couldn’t take his eyes away from Connor’s even if he tried. He looked so gorgeous like this, bathed in a warm glow, hair tousled from sleep and eyes bright and wide, like he truly did want Oliver.

After a moment, both men gazing at each other, Oliver felt himself relax. He sighed, bringing his hands up to comb them through Connor’s hair, tilting his head back. Connor’s eyes slipped shut as he and Oliver met halfway in a firm kiss.

Oliver could count on one hand the number of times he and Connor had kissed, but each time they did he melted, soft and malleable to Connor’s whim, able to forget about everything around them and, in this particular moment, whatever fears he had.

Connor’s hands slipped around to pull Oliver flush against him, grunting as he took the kiss deeper, dropping his jaw and licking his way into Oliver’s mouth. Oliver felt his body respond automatically, wondering how Connor could make him react this way; make his fingers itch to touch and pull and drag and his mouth to press, lick, bite. Though Oliver had one idea… shuddering as Connor’s fingers trailed down his backside, getting a handful of his ass and squeezing… as to why Connor could completely unravel him.

Something besides fervor made his heart clench, something warmer than desire and lust ached in Oliver’s body, made his cock harden to the sounds of Connor’s breathy moans, low and unfiltered. Oliver knew he was falling fast for Connor Walsh and he was powerless to stop himself.

Connor pulled away suddenly, forcing Oliver to take a deep breath, eyelids fluttering open just in time to watch Connor pull his sweatshirt over his head, revealing bare skin underneath. Oliver felt himself squint to see, the limited light paired with his poor eyesight nearly made him blind.

Oliver was about to go back in, get his hands on Connor’s skin, closer so he could see and feel, attached his mouth to that long neck, when Connor spoke, voice rough and undeniably sexy.

“Grab the candle.” He nodded to the pew where it had been sat. “Follow me.”

Mind hazy, Oliver obeyed, swiping his glasses as well and taking Connor’s extended hand, who led them down the aisle fast enough to make the small flame on the wick flicker madly.

“Connor,” Oliver said, not sure why he called out the younger man’s name. Oliver’s voice surprised him, soft and full of need. He licked his lips, still tasting Connor in his mouth.

They stopped at the altar, where Connor turned around, took the candle from Oliver and set it on the scratchy carpet. Oliver watched, hypnotized, as the orange flame briefly passed over Connor’s naked chest. He was dully aware that Connor was also toeing his shoes off and so did the same, eyes on Connor.

Oliver knew he had to keep moving, keep his mind on Connor, or else the spell would be broken. He surged forward as soon as the fire was safely on the floor, splaying his hands over Connor’s chest, pushing him down on the low step and bridging over him. Connor leaned back, connecting with the base of the altar, and smiled in an all too pleased way.

“Want something?” Connor rasped, his eyes focused on Oliver. Oliver gave a little grin of his own, sitting up on his knees, which landed on either side of Connor’s waist, and pulled his hoodie off as well, dropping it to the floor in a heap.

Connor rose up, anchoring a hand around the back of Oliver’s neck and pulling him down for another kiss that was mostly teeth and tongue. Oliver’s moan became muffled, he had snaked his arms around Connor’s middle to press them close again, bare chests touching, feeling warm skin against his own absolutely tantalizing in the chilly air.

“You.” Oliver released Connor’s mouth with a wet sound, dragging his lips along his cheek to breathe in Connor’s ear, giving it a nip. “I want you.”

He felt Connor’s jaw drop as he shivered. Oliver kissed down Connor’s neck, pleased with the way he stretched it out, unmarked. Oliver managed to curb the desire to bite down on the flesh presented to him, instead leaving a trail with his tongue and lips from Connor’s ear to his shoulder, hands gingerly exploring down his back, turning and advancing on Connor until he was flat on his back with Oliver hovering over him.

Connor wiggled back some, giving them more floor space and Oliver followed on all fours, his eyes finally adjusting some in his blurred vision and the inadequate light.

“Where did this come from?” Oliver heard Connor murmur as he descended upon the younger man again, kissing his mouth with a satisfied grin once, then again on his collarbone, his chest, down to his stomach where he felt Connor arch slightly off the floor. He just slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Connor’s cut-off sweat pants, when Connor’s hands landed on his shoulders, getting his attention with a gruff, “Ollie…”

Before Oliver could think, Connor sat up, urging Oliver to be eye-level again and promptly flipped their positions, mounting Oliver and locking his knees around his hips. He bowed forward, his bruised lips turned up into a playful smirk, inches from Oliver’s. “It’s my turn.”

Oliver watched silently, breathing hard as Connor took his hands and brought them up on either side of Oliver’s head, up and out of the way. He laced their fingers together, leaning down to give Oliver a gentle, lingering kiss that made Oliver’s head spin.

“Connor,” Oliver gasped, his head tilting back. Connor was kissing down his chest now, stopping at Oliver’s chest to tease his nipples.

Connor descended lower, releasing Oliver’s hands, which remained where they were as Connor reached the seat of Oliver’s pants, sitting up a little and palming Oliver through the thick material.

Oliver’s eyes slipped shut, jaw dropping in a silent moan. Connor continued to pet his erection over his pants.

“Is this for me?” Connor teased. Oliver opened his eyes to find Connor’s devilish smirk subdued, desire flashing in his gaze.

“Connor I swear to God…” Oliver bucked his hips up. Connor laughed softly, looking back down at Oliver’s bulge before hooking his fingers around the waistband of Oliver’s pants and pulling them down carefully.

Oliver looked away once he was completely exposed. He hadn’t been wearing his boxer briefs and was always self conscious about his body. His nerves almost soured the mood until he heard a heavy whisper of,

“Fuck…” followed by Connor’s hand wrapping around his member.

Just feeling Connor’s hand on him made Oliver tremble. He looked over again and found Connor’s eyes trained on his cock, stroking it up and down. Before long, Connor looked up, grinned naughtily, and shuffled down so his lips were inches from Oliver, breathing hotly over his dick.

Oliver was waiting for Connor to come up with another quip, or tease him, maybe Connor thought about it but decided better because instead he surrounded his mouth over Oliver, his tongue pressing along the underside of his shaft down to the base.

With a _thunk_ , Oliver’s head fell back onto the thin carpet, groaning quietly. Connor bobbed his head with growing momentum, one hand groping up Oliver’s stomach and abs, and the other around his balls. Oliver cried out as the hand around his balls descended lower, massaging his perineum. He grabbed a fistful of Connor’s hair, the other flying to the hand on his chest, needed something to hold on to.

“ _Connor_ ,” Oliver moaned, lifting his head and watching Connor work, captivated by the way his cock disappeared in Connor’s eager mouth over and over again. The way he hummed, creating vibrations that drove Oliver insane, unable to resist thrusting lightly, up into wet heat. Connor took it fervently, picking up the pace and hollowing out his cheeks.

Then Connor’s hand moved lower, tracing the ring of Oliver’s hole.

Oliver babbled a mixture of curses and praise. Connor’s touch was absolutely maddening; his hands were everywhere at once and his tongue never relaxed, swirling and pressing hard against his shaft and weeping cock head. Oliver couldn’t keep his voice in even if he wanted to. His cries of delectation reverberated off the walls, mingled with the lewd sounds of Connor sucking on him.

The familiar tightening of pleasure became harder and harder to ignore, threatening to release itself if Connor kept this up.

“Connor, I’m gonna-”

Just as Oliver spoke, Connor released him with a loud, wet gasp. Oliver groaned despairingly in frustration, lifting his head up fast enough to make him dizzy.

“What-”

“Get on your knees,” Connor panted, leaning back with a hungry look in his eyes. “Now.”

Oliver rolled over, blind lust controlling him as he did as he was told. He couldn’t think of what Connor wanted, he hadn’t prepped Oliver for penetration, but soon Connor’s hands were on his hips, pulling his ass out. Before Oliver could turn his head and wonder what Connor was doing, the younger man’s fingers spread him open, and a hot, wet tongue slid inside him.

Oliver screamed. His body shook, forcing him to collapse on his elbows, head bowed as he gasped and writhed under Connor’s control.

Who’s tongue only plunged deeper, curling and twisting, searching. It slipped back out occasionally, circling the tight ring of muscle before diving back in.

Oliver tried calling Connor’s name, but he couldn’t find his mind to speak, only his voice to cry out extolment. He’d never experienced this before, even with his exes, it was something Oliver thought about once but never brought it up again; rim jobs. His past relationships thought it was dirty and too risky, so Oliver had become comfortable with the idea that it just wasn’t something he’d ever get to experience.

But holy shit if this is what Connor could do, then Oliver didn’t need to experience it with anyone else.

Connor’s tongue slipped out completely, replaced by a wet finger slowly easing in while his mouth moved downwards, dragging his tongue along the space between Oliver’s hole and his balls, pressing _hard_ and making Oliver scream again.

“Connor, _please…_ ” Oliver begged, panting roughly and rocking his ass unashamedly back onto Connor’s finger, delighted to feel a second one being added. “I’m so close.”

His cock was aching furiously between his legs, untouched and leaking. Connor, with a final hard suck on his perineum, lifted his head, peppering kissing up Oliver’s spine and taking his rock hard cock in his hand, squeezing tightly while curling his fingers just right.

Oliver jolted, choking on his cry of release. Connor pumped his pulsating cock through it, catching the murky fluid in his hand.

Oliver shuddered, hissing pleasantly as Connor removed his fingers and allowed Oliver to collapse, laying on his side. Connor met his eyes, crawling to lay beside him, gaze alight with lust and smug satisfaction.

Opening his mouth to say something, Oliver came up short as Connor brought a hand up to his mouth, covered in come, and starting licking it clean, eyes never straying from Oliver’s.

A fresh wave of impure arousal stirred through Oliver’s lower belly. He’d never seen anything so fucking hot in his life.

“Jesus…” he murmured, feeling his dick twitch as Connor released the last dirty finger from his mouth with a light _pop_.

“It’s Connor, actually.” He grinned, his teeth flashing in the candle light. He sat up far enough to crawl back over Oliver, kissing him eagerly. Oliver’s hands flew into dark hair, tangling his fingers in it as he moved his lips with Connor’s, tasting himself on Connor’s tongue.

Oliver whimpered in Connor’s mouth, feeling the man above him grind down on his softening cock. Connor still had his sweat shorts on, with a very prominent erection straining to get through. Breaking the kiss, Oliver moved a hand from Connor’s head down his back, nails scraping along his skin along the way (causing Connor to arch forward, sighing hotly into Oliver’s ear), and slipping his hand down Connor’s pants to firmly grab his throbbing penis.

Connor dropped his head onto Oliver’s shoulder, moaning softly and slowly thrusting into Oliver’s fist.

“What are you thinking about?” Oliver asked breathlessly, nudging his nose along the side of Connor’s head. He gave a squeeze around the head of his cock which made Connor falter, voice cracking in his soft cry.

“Your fat cock inside me,” Connor panted, lifting his head enough to stare into Oliver’s eyes again.

Oliver felt his eyes widen, blood rushing south.

“I- I don’t know if I can…” Oliver mumbled, realizing how silly the words were while he _felt_ himself getting hard again.

Connor must’ve thought it funny too. He cracked a grin and scoffed.

“I’m sure you can manage…” He then straightened up, awkwardly pulling his shorts down one-handed (with Oliver helping out once his foggy brain figured out what he was doing), but not before reaching into a pocket, procuring a condom, and kicking the sweats to the side.

Oliver’s heart kicked back up like it hadn’t slowed. Of course he’d thought about fucking Connor, taking him anywhere and against anything, but it wasn’t a position he frequented often… being top. If anything, he figured Connor would take the lead automatically, with that saucy attitude and oozing confidence.

Then Oliver looked to the condom on the floor, distracted for a minute, wasn’t there something missing…?

“Lube?” Oliver asked, looking back to Connor, who had leaned down and was tantalizingly rutting himself along Oliver’s nearly engorged dick.

“... Fuck,” Connor mumbled, pausing and looking side to side. His gaze fell upon the altar, calculating, before making a decision and peeling himself away from Oliver, hastily crawling to the gaudy table and searching the shelves.

Oliver sat up on his elbows, watching Connor for a few seconds until the youth found what he was looking for with an “ah ha!”

He pounced Oliver, smiling victoriously, waving a glass, square bottle in his hand.

“Anointing oil.” Connor waggled his eyebrows, giving the bottle a shake as he made himself comfortable on Oliver’s lap.

Oliver shook his head, amused and slightly mortified.

“Are you going to bless me?” Oliver tried to break the absurd situation, laying his hands on Connor’s thighs and massaging.

“I think it’ll be the other way around,” Connor said, tone light, tipping the bottle and getting a gob of oil on his fingers, rubbing them together before bending forward and inserting them into his own ass.

Oliver’s jaw dropped at the same time Connor’s did, a burning hot thrill shooting down his spine straight into his groin. He watched how Connor’s face screwed up, rocking back on his fingers, pain morphing into bliss, moaning softly.

Oliver lay frozen, his hands still unconsciously tracing the muscle of Connor’s thighs, gaze focused on the youth, his furled brows, down his chest and stomach, to his gorgeous cock standing at full attention between them. He couldn’t get over how beautiful Connor was, especially right here and now, prepping himself for Oliver, trembling slightly above him, the single candle glowing yellow on his soft yet toned arms and chest.

“You’re gorgeous,” Oliver whispered, cupping Connor’s cheek with one hand.

Connor’s unfocused eyes sharpened, meeting Oliver’s. Oliver saw the familiar flash of uncertainty in Connor’s look and leaned up, kissing him softly. After a beat, Connor was kissing him back, picking up the pace and breathing harshly through his nose.

“I’m ready,” Connor spoke before his lips were off Oliver’s. His right hand was back, fumbling for the condom and struggling with the wrapper.

“What?” Oliver sat up again, taking the foil automatically and helping Connor and his slippery fingers to tear it open. “That wasn’t enough prep time.”

“I’m still pretty loose from a few hours ago.” He tried to grin but it looked strained, a desperate look in his eyes. He dropped his voice, “I thought of you fucking me after I texted you.”

Oliver’s lashes lifted, studying Connor. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Did you?”

Connor hummed, touching Oliver’s penis, which had swollen long and hard once more. He leaned forward, nabbing the condom from Oliver’s still hands while pecking his lips.

Oliver licked his lips. “Did you cum?”

“I did,” Connor whispered heatedly, kissing up Oliver’s jaw and landing on an ear. “Had to bite my pillow to keep from screaming.”

Oliver slipped his eyes shut, feeling tipsy just thinking about it. Connor getting off to him, just down the hall. And now here he was, hot and naked on top of him, rocking his hips lazily for teasing friction.

“Though, you’re much bigger than I thought you’d be…” Connor smirked against Oliver’s ear, leaning away to fit the condom down Oliver’s length.

Oliver didn’t say anything. He wondered if Connor was just saying that, or if the hungry way he stared at his cock had any merit to it. Before Oliver could continue over analyzing, Connor gripped the base of Oliver’s length, positioning and carefully lowering himself onto it.

Oliver’s hands flew to Connor’s hips, holding on tightly as Connor impaled himself to the hilt, throwing his head back in exquisite agony. Forcing himself to be still, Oliver allowed Connor to adjust, though the temptation to move inside Connor’s tight heat was absolutely maddening.

Both men were breathing loudly, Connor emitting a quiet “... _fuck_ ,” breaking the moment. His hands fell over Oliver’s chest, fingers splaying out and pushing him back down onto the rough carpet. He experimentally shifted his weight and squeezed his eyes shut, moaning obscenely.

“You okay?” Oliver asked, his hands moving again to feel Connor’s skin.

“Yeah,” Connor breathed, lifting his hips finally and gently pushing them back down. “ _Ah_ , fuck you feel so good…”

He continued penetrating himself on Oliver’s cock, lifting his hips so Oliver was nearly all the way out before slowly sliding back down, huffing breathy moans with every movement. Oliver watched, transfixed, biting his lip to keep his voice in, preferring to hear Connor come undone above him, the way his breath would hitch every now and then, or how his eyes fluttered open now, meeting Oliver’s gaze and making the older man shake with _want_.

“Give me your hands.” Oliver removed his from Connor, taking his offered palms and lacing their fingers together. As he felt Connor’s pace quicken, Oliver lifted his hips up just as Connor came down, the raw sound of skin smacking together echoed off the walls and surrounded them. Connor cried out salaciously, his fingers clenching tight over Oliver’s.

“ _Again_ ,” Connor begged, undulating harder on Oliver’s cock and nearly screaming as Oliver lifted his hips up to meet Connor’s again and again and _again_ . Spurred on by white hot pleasure and Connor’s nonsensical babbling of, “ _more… right there, ah!_ ”

Oliver grunted, breathing hard through his mouth and slowing his pace to a stop, amused by Connor’s whine of displeasure, who kept bouncing up and down regardless. All Connor’s weight was held up by Oliver’s hands, which held on tight, keeping his arms wide to watch the vision before him: Connor’s skin sweat slicked and shining, dick bobbing to each thrust, the pained pleasure his face reflected.

“Ollie, I’m gonna-”

“Slow down,” Oliver commanded at once. He wasn’t even close to being finished with this, memorizing this moment, this feeling, surrounded by Connor, witnessing him fuck himself on Oliver’s dick with such intensity, desire, carnal need.

Even Connor’s whine sounded raunchy, but he obeyed, forcing himself to slow down once more, taking his time with long, drawn out moans. Their eyes met and they watched each other silently, gazes dark and wild, intense and full of devotion.

After some time, Connor predictably began to speed up, eyes still on Oliver.

“Ollie…” Connor gasped, striking down just right and rolling his eyes back with a silent scream.

Oliver lurched forward, guiding Connor’s hands to his shoulders while he found new purchase on Connor’s hips, gripping roughly and pulling him close. Connor gave a slow, exaggerated roll of his hips while Oliver quickly made himself comfortable, folding his legs so Connor was better seated in his lap. Oliver’s hands slipped down, grabbing handfuls of Connor’s ass, spreading his cheeks and encouraging him to continue fucking himself.

Connor responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around Oliver’s neck and pressing their foreheads together, lips parted and breathing the same air as he rose up and down, keeping his pace hard and fast.

“You’re so good,” Oliver grunted, getting his fingers tighter around Connor’s shaking ass. “So fucking good for me.”

Connor locked his lips over Oliver’s, tongue diving past and wildly exploring his mouth. His moans became lost in the heavy breathing and the slapping skin-on-skin, which only increased desperately when Oliver felt Connor’s dick begin to brush his stomach.

Oliver pulled Connor closer to rub his cock against him while he persisted riding Oliver, their mouths still messily connected.

“ _Ahh_!” Connor screamed, pulling away. “I’m cumming!” Oliver’s eyes shot open, watching as Connor’s eyes fluttered closed, fingers gripping the base of Oliver’s neck so hard it nearly hurt.

The warmth hit Oliver’s front in spurts, shooting up to his chest and neck. Connor rode out his wave on Oliver, teeth clenched tightly before finally relaxing, eyebrows raised in pure rapture.

And goddamn if it wasn’t the sexiest thing Oliver had ever seen.

Oliver felt his own orgasm unwinding and Connor’s slowed pace wasn’t doing it for him. Without warning, Oliver shifted, lowering Connor onto his back, amused by the way his eyes shot open, and hefted himself onto his knees, his cock still buried inside Connor.

He grabbed Connor’s legs, pushing them up, turned on by how quick Connor understood and wrapped them around his back. With a lingering look, Oliver started thrusting in and out of Connor.

Connor took him willingly, pulling Oliver in with his legs every time he backed out, harder and harder and faster. It didn’t take long for Oliver to come again, bowing his head with a drawn out groan, snapping his hips roughly in time to the pulsations, making Connor gasp sharply every time.

“Shit…” Oliver sighed, leisurely rolling his hips, easing up as his cock softened inside Connor.

“Yeah,” Connor hummed. His arms came out wide, sprawled over the floor, utterly spent.

Which was less than how Oliver felt; he couldn’t remember the last time he managed two orgasms in a row, and now his body felt like jello.

He gingerly pulled out of Connor, removed the condom, tied it, and dropped it next to them for now. Oliver sighed in content, finally flopping down next to Connor, facing him.

A comfortable silence spread between them as they caught their breaths, coming down from their sex high. When at last, Connor spoke.

“How do you do that?”

Oliver focused his gaze on Connor, waiting for him to elaborate, but he said nothing else, just watched Oliver.

“Do what?”

Connor rolled over on his side to better see Oliver.

“You’re just… I don’t know…” he picked at a loose fiber on the carpet. “You were so nervous and cute before, then while we were texting you were such a flirt, I was afraid it would be all talk… Then you blow me in the car, then this... you're kind of terrifying.”

After another silence, Connor decisively not meeting Oliver’s eyes this time, Oliver laughed quietly.

“Terrifying? That’s something I've never heard.”

But Connor didn’t laugh. He gazed up at Oliver again, expression unreadable. Oliver scooted forward, slipping his hand over Connor’s jaw, thumb caressing his ear.

“Whats wrong?”

Connor licked his lips before biting them, pupils shaking in the candle light. “I really like you…”

Oliver’s heart skipped, becoming lighter. “Me too.”

Connor shook his head, the motion so slight that Oliver barely caught it in the dark. Connor closed the gap between them, slotting his front against Oliver’s.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not…” Oliver started, trailing off at the look in Connor’s eyes.

“I don’t like people,” Connor sighed, taking Oliver’s free hand to play with his fingers. “And people don’t like me. But everyone likes sex so…” his eyes wandered off, omitting something, maybe.

“It’s hard to explain, I guess,” Connor mumbled, watching their hands now. “But this feels real…” his lashes lifted to Oliver again.

Oliver touched his nose to Connor’s, the hand around his neck smoothing down Connor’s shoulder. “You don’t have to explain anything yet.”

Connor nodded, tying his fingers with Oliver’s.

“And I really do like you too, Connor. You’re all I think about.”

That made Connor smile, but it was different. It was small, but sincere, and adorable.

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, the "how preposterous" line is from a fic by Blink_Blue. I forgot which one, but it stuck with me. I can really picture Connor making that exact face lol


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold the shortest chapter ever! I honestly just wanted something up before New Years.
> 
> I am very sorry about the delay! I was having a lot of trouble writing this and after fighting with it for months, scrapped what I had and rewrote it in Connor's POV... idk if it's any better, but hopefully it'll be nice to see a little bit from Connor's view. I think I'm going back to Oliver's POV after this chapter.

They say that when you realize you're dreaming, you'll wake up. Connor never had this problem. It didn't happen often, but once he was aware he was in a dream, he enjoyed controlling the events of it, and he wouldn't wake up unless he wanted to.

Right now he was dreaming of Oliver, and Connor knew it wasn't real because Oliver looked... smudged, imperfect. He had taken his glasses off and slipped them on Connor, laughing at what he saw. Connor wondered what he looked like, reaching up and touching the frames, smiling because Oliver was smiling.

“Hey, hey...” Oliver's voice said, but his mouth wasn't moving.

The vision began to blur even more, fading out, and Oliver's voice was becoming louder, clearer.

“Connor, wake up.”

After rushing through what felt like a wind tunnel, Connor's eyes finally snapped open, finding Oliver's face close to his.

“Ollie...?”

“Get up.” Oliver's voice was curt, but shaking slightly. “We fell asleep.”

Connor blinked, his head still foggy, trying to comprehend what Oliver meant... when Connor looked away from him, gaze landing on the crucifix at the back of the alter they were laying near.

At once Connor's body went still, blood freezing up. He sat up so fast his head spun. Oliver moved away, face stoic as he began gathering their clothes.

“Wh-what time is it?” Connor asked, his voice quiet and raspy. He craned his neck and saw the dark blue of morning beginning to shine through the stain glass windows.

“I don't know.” Oliver more or less threw Connor's sweater and shorts at him before yanking on his own hoodie.

Connor gulped down some air, fingers shaking as he pulled his arms through the sweater.

“Shit... _shit_...”

Both young men were silent as they dressed hastily. Terror crawling up Connor's spine, prickling his skin and bones before reaching the top of his head and making him dizzy.

“ _Shit_ ,” Connor cursed again, losing his breath. Yanking his shorts on, he tried standing, only to collapse again. His legs felt like wet noodles.

Connor looked over at Oliver, who had been quiet, but the dread was clear in his pale face, how his brows touched, the way he swallowed harshly as he slipped his glasses back on.

Connor couldn't take the silence, and the panic racing through his veins only amplified the tension.

“We're so screwed.”

Finally Oliver looked over. Connor dimly wondered what his face gave away. There was no wall he could put up now, no smile or comfort he could offer, and the way Oliver's eyes widened must've meant everything was readable on Connor's face.

Connor felt his chest constrict, lungs stuttering and suddenly making it hard to breathe. Connor clutched a hand to his chest, feebly getting a handful of thick cotton and holding on 'til it felt like his fingers could break.

Oliver was over him as soon as Connor took a deep inhale, his lungs rattling.

“Connor, Connor, look at me.”

Oliver's hands were on Connor's face, palms warm on his cold cheeks, thumbs gently stroking under the bags of his eyes.

Connor shook his head, looking down.

“Shit, no- stop we're waste-wasting time--” Connor bit the inside of his cheek as he felt a wave of hysteria rise up like bile. His hands moved to grip Oliver's arms. “We-we need--”

“Connor!” Oliver forced Connor's head up, forced him to look Oliver in the eyes.

“We'll be fine,” Oliver's voice was deceptively calm. He nodded as Connor shook his head.

“No...” Connor's nails dug into Oliver's skin. “He-he's up by now, he knows we're not there _right now_ \--”

“We'll say we were running.”

Connor finally met Oliver's eyes. His chest hurt, his throat felt tight, he felt the room fading in and out. _Fuck_ he hadn't had a panic attack in so long. And to relapse in front of Oliver... _fuck he thinks I'm so weak._

“Running?” Connor spat, incredulous. “I don't fucking run--”

“But I do.” Oliver's voice remained calm, though he spoke quickly, knowing every second wasted in here was another second closer to someone finding them.

“My parent's can vouch for me, Connor.” Oliver repeating his name had a strange calming effect on Connor, making it a little easier to look him in the eyes. “I run nearly every morning, before sunrise. It'll be fine.”

Connor shook his head again, though he tried breathing slowly, deeply. Despite the fear and anxiety rushing through his body, Connor knew he had to snap out of it, focus, _get out_.

“No, you don't get it...” Connor gasped wetly, squeezing his eyes shut as tears began to fall. Oliver's thumbs brushed them away.

Oliver was silent, waiting, but slowly stood them up as Connor composed himself. They held each other's arms to keep Connor steady.

“My dad knows...”

That made Oliver go still.

“What?”

Connor swallowed, looking past Oliver, mustering up the truth he had managed to bury all this time. “He caught me, few years back... fucking the neighbor in my room.”

Connor's didn't hear how his voice had gone dead, void of emotion. Oliver looked to the floor, the fear he'd been able to suppress threatening to come forth in screams. He helped Connor to walk down the short steps, depositing him into a pew while he looked for their shoes.

“His name was Cole...” Connor didn't know why he was continuing, but the words came freely, without permission, like they wanted to be heard.

Oliver kept focused on the task at hand, lips drawn in as he listened.

“Here, put your shoes on.” Oliver set Connor's shoes at his feet, collapsing to the floor to pull his own sneakers on.

Connor numbly obeyed, feeling Oliver's gaze on him. He felt his mouth opening again, more word vomit tumbling out while Oliver hastily cleaned up any mess left behind.

“...Dad gave me the choice of conversion camp or staying in the house under constant supervision... studying the Bible 'til my eyes bled... and performing sermons once a month.”

Connor saw Oliver's jaw tighten. He wrapped the tied condom up in a Kleenex and shoved it in his pocket before standing over Connor again, grabbing his hands and hefting him up to stand.

“Look at me,” Oliver said, his hands back on Connor's face. “You're so good at faking it. This will work, we'll be fine. Just...” Oliver took a steadying breath. “Stay calm. Be cool.”

“Be cool...” Connor muttered, looking down and popping his knuckles.

“Trust me,” Oliver said, pressing a gentle kiss on Connor's lips.

Connor's eyes fluttered open after Oliver pulled away, the soft, warm sensation of their lips connecting somehow reigning in Connor's crumbling sanity. Instead of heavy and jittery, Connor suddenly felt weightless, staring into Oliver's honest eyes, full of care and tenderness. It was as if the simple kiss was a promise that everything would work out, it would be okay.

* * *

 

They arrived back at the house, Connor sucking in a gulp of air and composing himself as he inserted the key in the lock, leading Oliver and him inside.

Connor's heart lurched as he spotted his father waiting at the dining room table for them. His chin perched on his laced fingers, supported by his elbows on the table's surface. Mr. Walsh's face was unreadable, eyes stern, locked on his son as he walked through the living room to greet him.

“Hey, dad,” Connor offered, voice casual. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he felt them begin to shake. He felt Oliver's eyes on the back of his head.

Mr. Walsh cocked an eyebrow. He took a deep inhale.

“Where were you two?”

Connor forced himself to relax, knowing how awkward he and Oliver must've looked, standing close and still. He controlled his face into something annoyed and bored, walking casually to the kitchen.

“Went out for a run.” Connor spoke while he opened the fridge, grabbing some orange juice. “Oliver accidentally woke me up as he was leaving, I decided to join him.”

Connor peeked sideways to see his dad's head turn to gauge Oliver's reaction.

“It's true.” Oliver nodded, his hands stuck in his hoodie pockets. “I like waking up before the sun and getting some exercise in.”

Mr. Walsh looked back at his son as Connor poured the juice into a large glass.

“A run, huh?”

Connor met his father's eyes, calculating, searching for another answer. He just realized how rehearsed their story sounded, how they added in unnecessary little details.

_You're over thinking it, stop making it worse!_

“Yeah,” Connor said, taking a sip.

Mr. Walsh stood up, slowly rounding the table and leaning against the counter near Connor.

“Why did you need my keys for that?”

Connor felt his heart stop for a beat before starting back up in double time, fueled by dread. _He knows, he knows, fuck!_

“Uh, I wasn't aware I had your keys...” Connor supplied, pulling an excuse out of the air. “It was dark, I was tired, I just grabbed at the key rack, since they all have the house key attached.”

Mr. Walsh hummed, unconvinced.

Connor slouched against the counter, hoping it didn't look forced.

A loud, uncomfortable silence filled the air. Connor thought of what he would do in this situation under normal circumstances, what he would do if he and Oliver weren't lying.

“I'm gonna take a shower now...” Connor said, in his most teenage, _I'm bored of this,_ voice, and downing the rest of his juice.

Mr. Walsh said nothing, but out of the corner of his eye, as Connor made his way to the stairs, he caught Oliver's flash of fear at being left alone with his father.

Connor gave Oliver what he hoped was a reassuring smile, feeling guilty as he rounded the corner. Oliver was smart-- smarter than him. He'd know what to do... and what else could Connor do or say? They still had hours to fill before service started, Oliver himself said to act natural.

Connor took a long, steadying inhale through his nose and out his mouth as he searched for clean clothes in his room. They'd be fine. And even if they weren't, Connor would figure it out. This whole mess was his fault, his stupid idea to get fucked, to finally alleviate the sexual frustration he felt whenever Oliver even looked at him.

It was more than just getting off though, wasn't it? Connor couldn't get Oliver out of his head, like a catchy pop song or something. It was stupid... he'd never had a hang up like this, never had a _crush_... unless you counted Cole.

Connor caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror, startling himself. He hadn't thought about Cole in a while... not since the funeral, which he hadn't been allowed to come to.

“Dammit...” Connor cursed under his breath, yanking his clothes off and turning the hot water to full blast.

* * *

Connor opened the bathroom door to Oliver, nearly giving himself a heart attack.

“What-”

Oliver brought a finger to his lips, nudging his head in the direction of Connor's room.

Quietly tip-toeing, Connor shut the door behind them and turned, facing Oliver, who stood in the middle of the room running his hands through his short hair.

“I'm so sorry I left you with him.” Connor spoke softly.

“It's okay, I get it.” Oliver bit his lip, worried eyes scanning the floor. “Your dad is making breakfast right now, I don't know when we'll have time to talk about this again.”

Connor's blood began racing again, just the thought of talking about his father and secrets got his nerves going. “I don't think _now_ is the best time.”

Oliver shook his head. “Con-”

“I'm getting dressed, dad might be up here any second to check up on us.” Connor turned to his dresser as he spoke, rummaging out clean briefs and slacks.

“I know it's risky, but you kinda gotta fill me in here.”

Connor turned around. Oliver looked so awkward, standing and swaying from side to side.

“Wanna sit down?” Connor gestured to the bed.

“Not really...”

Connor rolled his eyes, dropping the towel around his hips and stepping into his underwear. He hadn't missed how Oliver turned halfway, as if to give Connor privacy, but Connor felt his stare on him anyway.

“We'll talk about it later, I promise.” Connor pulled on his pants as he spoke, finally moving towards Oliver and lightly touching his hip.

Oliver exhaled sharply from his nose, reluctance and apprehension clear behind his smudged glasses. He lifted his hand and Connor smiled weakly at Oliver's extended pinky.

Connor curled his own pinky finger around Oliver's.

“Now go take a shower.” Connor pushed forward to press a quick kiss against Oliver's lips.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pokes out of hiding*
> 
> oh, you're still here *brushes off dust* thanks for waiting. have another short (omg its so short im so sorry) chapter. next one will be another epic long one, this just felt right to end where it is. also, im hella impressed with myself for writing this much on zero canon inspiration.
> 
> *lays back down on the cold floor and sighs*

 

Oliver took an extra long time in the shower, slowly turning the cold nozzle off and letting himself bake in the scalding hot water, allowing it to comfort him, distract him from the grilling he'd received from Connor's dad less than an hour ago.

“ _How often do you run?”_

“ _A couple times a week, I'm trying to get better at it.”_

_Oliver studied Mr. Walsh's eyes, the perception behind them. He knew without saying, that Mr. Walsh would somehow bring up Oliver's workout routine to his parent's as subtly and friendly as possible, to confirm Connor and his alibi._

“ _And you had to bring Connor along?”_

_Oliver shook his head, putting on his best sympathetic face._

“ _I hadn't realized I was making so much noise... It's hard for me to sleep in an unknown environment and figured a run would do me good,” Oliver had paused. “I'm really sorry we made you worry.”_

Oliver ducked his head under the spray, blowing air out his mouth. Connor's dad looked genuinely taken aback by Oliver's apology, nodding once afterward, and getting up to start breakfast.

By nature Oliver was empathetic, he got it from his mother. It was easy for Oliver to act kind, polite, and remorseful even when he felt anything but. Oliver always thought it was an annoying trait of his, but now thanked heaven that he could manage it even staring fear dead in the face.

Oliver grabbed a random shampoo off the wall and vigorously massaged it into his hair, focusing on his nails scratching his scalp.

_My dad knows..._

“What the fuck, Connor.” Oliver mumbled to himself, stepping under the water again and willing it to drown the memories of this morning.

 

 

Oliver braced himself for anything, walking down the stairs and into the dining room after getting dressed. He wasn't expecting a calm scene before him, Connor sitting at the table, playing on his phone, and his dad in the kitchen getting breakfast ready.

Taking a seat across from Connor, and getting his attention, Oliver gave him a quizzical look that Connor responded to with a shrug.

All appeared relatively normal... they ate breakfast, made small talk, and finished getting ready for church, albeit with an obvious tension in the air. Oliver tried to play it cool, act natural, though the minutes before church started stretched on like hours and he could feel Mr. Walsh's eyes on him at every opportunity, silently judging him, questioning him.

Being the first people inside the church was weird, although he and Connor had been here hours ago alone... the day time emptiness held a loneliness and now, with only Connor and his father with him, a certain terror. Walking around, killing time as Connor helped Mr. Walsh set up before the congregation arrived, Oliver was oddly comforted by the thought of last nights activities, how the darkened chapel had scared him before opening up and becoming eerily beautiful.

He took a sideways peek over at Connor, down at the front rows while he was wandering in the back, his eyes were focused on something but soon looked up as well, meeting Oliver's gaze for a second, smiling a tiny smile before getting back to his task. Oliver turned away, not realizing he was also grinning. At night fall this church was his and Connor's, when the walls turned black and candle light illuminated their faces with orange and yellow hues, no one else had that except them. Remembering eased Oliver back into the present, allowing him to compose himself and face whatever the rest of the day had in store.

Which, anticlimactically, wasn't much. Soon guests came filing in, starting with the choir and organ player, setting up and chatting. Then, who Oliver assumed to be, the assistant pastor, setting up the refreshment table in the back, which Oliver offered help with to fill his absolutely bored mind. It wasn't long before Oliver's parents eventually showed up, his mother as shining and positive as usual, unconsciously grilling Oliver about his time at the Walsh's before Oliver politely cut her off to acknowledge his father, who wasn't nearly as interested in Oliver's time as his wife.

Once service finally started, Oliver was ready for a nap. He couldn't focus, and hadn't had a proper word with Connor since this morning... which his weary brain kept returning to, the vague conversation here in the church, as well as the rushed conversation in his bedroom. Thoughts, questions swooped in and out of Oliver's mind, giving him a headache.

His glassy eyes fixed themselves to the spot next to the pulpit, next to where Mr. Walsh was performing his sermon, right where he and Connor had fucked last night... early this morning, just a few fresh hours ago. Oliver took a deep inhale, licking his bottom lip. He knew how that scratchy thin carpet felt against his naked back, his bare knees, he knew how slick that stupid oil (which smelled like olives) felt as he pounded his cock into Connor, so easy and mind numbingly good. Sitting here, with Mr. Walsh reading from the holy text when the spot just feet away from him was tainted by sin sent a thrill through Oliver; it was exhilarating.

 

 

After what felt like an eternity, service ended, and though Oliver had his wits about him once more, he still wasn't sure how to best approach Connor in view of his father. He let Connor mingle with everyone as usual, doing a little socializing himself just to blend in, and promptly swallow his own tongue when he witnessed Mr. Walsh speaking to his father.

Oliver played if off like a hiccup, returning his attention back to the old woman he was speaking to, but his nerves flared up like they hadn't just relaxed. After excusing himself, Oliver jogged to the entrance and around the building, leaning against the wall and forcing himself to relax. There was nothing Mr. Walsh could tell his father that would incriminate him at all, just speculation and suspicion... though apparently he knew Connor was gay so what did that make Oliver by association, hanging out with him outside of his house for hours, alone.

“Hey.”

Oliver nearly jumped out of his shoes. Connor was facing him, an amused but cautious look upon his face.

“You alright?”

“What do you think?” Oliver sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

A silence fell between them, both wanting to say much but unable to, with people still so close and their time together slipping away.

Oliver sighed. “I need to go home, back to Cambridge today.”

“What?” Connor's head snapped up. “Already?”

Oliver smile ruefully. “I have class tomorrow, and I got barely any work done while I was here so, I'm leaving around noon.”

Connor stood, jaw slack. “But...”

“Sorry...” Oliver sighed again, and he was. He hadn't told Connor when he was leaving, he didn't think he needed to, he also didn't think he'd be leaving in a state of unease, paranoid and worried for Connor.

What would happen now? Connor and him didn't get their chance to talk, would they be able to do it over the phone? Would Connor back out and act like nothing happened this morning, like he hadn't nearly panicked in the church, slipping out vague secrets?

Oliver pushed his thoughts to the side, upset by the way Connor's head dipped down, hands shoved into his pockets.

“You'll call me?”

“I'll try,” Connor mumbled to the ground before looking back up. His eyes met Oliver's first before moving to observe the old brick wall of the church.

Oliver blinked. “You'll try?”

Connor huffed, bringing a hand out to rub the back of his neck.

“Things are... complicated now. I need to be extra careful around dad now.”

“Because of what you told me?” _Because he knows your gay?_

“I don't know what I should do...” Connor looked back to Oliver, his voice had gone quiet. The noise of chatting became louder as more people exited the church.

Oliver didn't need elaboration. Connor had a choice now, keep lying to his father, placate him that this was all a huge misunderstanding, and continue walking on egg shells around him and fearing him. Or tell the truth.

Oliver swallowed, he understood the predicament, he also understood, maybe not to the fullest extent, the disapproval Mr. Walsh would respond with... the disgust.

“How long 'til you graduate?” Oliver broke the tension, hoping to distract Connor a little bit.

“July.” Two months.

Two months is a long time to live in denial, or in rejection.

“Connor!”

Oliver and Connor both straightened at the call.

“Dad's looking for me,” Connor said obviously, he turned halfway, opened his mouth like he'd yell back, but Oliver grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him back and laying a harsh kiss on Connor's mouth.

Connor shoved Oliver back against the building and kissed back fiercely, hard and fast, his fingers digging into the back of Oliver's neck. Their teeth clicked together, mouths opening and tongues pressing impatiently as Connor moved his body along Oliver's, moaning brokenly.

“Connor!” Mr. Walsh sounded closer now.

They broke apart with a loud gasp, jaws unhinged and eyes wild.

“Coming!” Connor shouted back, licking his lips and giving Oliver that old smirk he loved so much. He started walking backwards, keeping his eyes locked with Oliver's for as long as he could manage.

“Bye.”

“Bye,” Oliver responded, rooted to the spot as he watched Connor round the corner and leave.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't gonna be the chapter, but so far I'm 9k in and it's just... too much. There's a lot that happens after the point where I end this chapter, so I thought it just made sense to break this one up. Next chapter will be uploaded before the season premiere!
> 
> Sorry again for the delay, I know I always apologize but I always do mean it!

He didn't know how, but Oliver managed to get the work done he needed to when he arrived back on campus. His phone had been dead silent on the drive there and right now, at 3 in the morning.

Oliver had expected it, and he dared not text Connor. It was agonizing being left in the dark, unsure what was happening to Connor right now. Having his own insecurity and fears about coming out to his own family plagued him enough, he couldn't imagine how Mr. Walsh would react, especially thinking his son had been “cured” with his church punishments.

An annoying trait of Oliver's was overthinking, worrying, blowing things out of proportion. His professors liked to criticize Oliver that he made assignments more difficult than they were. And he did, Oliver was aware that he was a little bit of a perfectionist, analytical, mathematical... but wasn't it better to be correct? To exhaust and exacerbate a problem to the point of hair loss from stress? Oliver guessed they did have a point, his professors.

But he'd never had this kind of worry plague him before, worry for another person he cared for more than a friend. A worry that hit closer to home than say, finding out a project partner cheated on their portion or when Michaela had that pregnancy scare with her ex. This was personal, because it was something that Oliver would have to gather up the courage to face eventually himself. And would he be able to see Connor again if he told his father?

Oliver wished he could go out and get a drink. He was finally home, in bed, wide awake. He'd never considered getting a fake I.D. but just for tonight, he'd be willing to break that tiny law.

He managed to doze off eventually, waking with a groggy sound of displeasure to a text alert on his phone.

Rolling over, Oliver read his first message from Connor in 24 hours.

_I'm okay_

Oliver's fingers flew over the key pad.

_Did you tell him?_

_Not yet... but it's gotta be soon, he's making me crack_

Oliver glanced up at the time in the corner of his phone. Nine in the morning, Connor was in study hall.

_Want to call me?_

A couple minutes went by.

_Can't. Need to be on my best behavior._

Oliver waited, hoping Connor would continue the conversation himself. He knew what Oliver wanted to hear...

_I don't really wanna talk about it right now_

Oliver sighed roughly. He sat up and grabbed his glasses from the bed side table.

_Then why did you text me?_

_Cos I know you're probably freaking out, and I don't want you to worry about me_

_I can't help worrying about you..._ Oliver chewed on his bottom lip. _Not to sound like a mom_

A long silence stretched on after that. Oliver got up, washed his face, and started preparing coffee before his phone went off again.

_No, you sound like a boyfriend_

Days went on after that exchange. Connor didn't call, only texted, and their conversations were minimal, curt, and frustrating. Both boys were tense and they were taking it out on each other, simply by Connor not filling Oliver in on what the hell was going on at home and Oliver in turn giving Connor the silent treatment when he'd dodge a personal question.

“Hey.”

Oliver looked over his shoulder, watching Michaela jog up next to him, textbook and an organizer clutched in her arms.

“Wanna get lunch?”

Oliver looked forward again, collecting his thoughts. “I was just gonna...” He scrambled for an excuse. “Study for my poli sci test next week.”

Michaela made a face that called bullshit. “No, you're having lunch with me.”

Oliver smiled a little, giving Michaela a tiny glance before looking to the floor as they walked. “Fine. What are you into?”

 

“So, this guy I'm seeing, Connor...” Oliver paused for recognition. Michaela nodded, taking a sip of her water. “He's going through some stuff at home, and it kind of affects me.”

“How so?”

After a brief hesitance, Oliver explained what had happened. He spoke about Connor's seeming reluctance too; his policy on relationships and how he felt toward Oliver... or at least how Oliver was interpreting things.

Oliver thought he'd feel ashamed, telling someone about his feelings, his turmoil, but letting it all out in front of Michaela, who reacted sympathetically, was such a relief that Oliver couldn't stop talking.

“And... on top of all this, is the reality that soon Connor will have to come out of the closet, definitely not on his own terms... and it's making me think about when I'll have to eventually bite the bullet.”

Michaela sat silent, absorbing everything Oliver had said.

“Your empathy will truly be the death of you, Oliver.”

“What?”

Michaela shuffled in her seat. “Stop stressing yourself out over something that’s out of your control. You’re here, Connor’s there… and you need to focus on yourself right now. Seems that’s what Connor’s doing. I think that’s what he wants from you too, right now.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Michaela laid her hand over Oliver’s, he hadn’t realized he’d been tapping his fork on the table’s surface.

“You’re worrying yourself into the ground. Connor needs to figure his shit out; he will figure it out. He seems like a very capable young man who can do this himself. Also…” Michaela hesitated.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Michaela spoke quickly. “That’s it… you should focus on your studies and finals coming up—“

“Michaela, what?” Oliver shrunk back in his chair when he heard the bite his tone held. “Just tell me.”

“… He’s not your boyfriend. He’s not yours to worry about. Leave it be.” Her tone went soft and quiet at the end.

Anger flared up in Oliver, though it quickly dissipated. Michaela was right. Connor wasn’t his boyfriend. He wasn’t sure what Connor was to him.

“Sorry…”

“No, I’m sorry.” Michaela sat up straighter and pulled some hair behind her ear. “I don’t mean to sound indifferent.”

Michaela wasn’t indifferent though… she was one of Oliver’s only friends, he understood her almost a little too well because of that. She’s a rational woman who’s goal oriented, smart, and self-sufficient. Of course she would see Oliver moping and stressing over some guy to be a waste of his time and anyone else’s around him. Oliver had been less social since meeting Connor, as well as a little more spacey. That wasn’t like him.

“Maybe if Connor manned up and actually discussed his feelings with me, I wouldn’t be so invested in this…”

Michaela nodded slightly to herself. Oliver looked at his food, a chicken wrap he hardly touched… he hadn’t meant to say that line aloud.

“Give it time.” Michaela offered. “If Connor truly cares about you, he’ll come around.”

Oliver nodded too.

 

On Thursday Connor texted Oliver again, asking for his address.

_Why?_

_In case I want to send you something_ , was all Connor had responded with.

Friday night, around 10pm, Oliver was pulling his car up in his building’s parking lot, and found a familiar blue Prius in one of the spaces.

Eyeing it curiously, shaking his head, Oliver turned the corner to enter through the gates of the complex and found one Connor Walsh sitting on the stoop to his building.

Elation and confusion filled Oliver as he froze on the spot, staring at Connor like he was a hallucination, a shape the darkness created to trick his eyes.

“Connor?”

Connor looked up, smiling faintly. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” Oliver finally walked toward Connor, a slow smile of his own stretching his lips up.

Connor stood as Oliver approached, stuffing his fists in his hoodie pockets and shrugging.

“Wanted to see you…”

Oliver stood on the ground, facing Connor, who remained on the first step, a head above Oliver.

Although it was dark, being face-to-face with Connor revealed something that made Oliver’s smile drop. His eyes were puffy and… sad. Like he’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?”

Connor looked down, moving his arms like he was figuring out what to do with his obscured hands.

“Can we go in?”

 

Once inside, Oliver first made his way to the kitchen, dully noting Connor drop a back pack on the floor, and began fussing with putting some water on to boil. “Are you hungry? Do you want tea or—“

“Coffee.” Was the quiet, scratchy response from behind.

Oliver turned and found Connor pulling the throw blanket Oliver kept over his couch off and over his shoulders, plopping himself heavily down and curling up.

Turning back, Oliver paused, licking his lips and getting to work on making a pot of coffee.

“How long were you waiting out there?”

“About an hour… weirded out some of your neighbors.”

Oliver chuckled, pouring the water into the machine. “Glad no one called the cops on you. You should’ve just told me you were coming.”

“I figured you’d be home.” Connor said dumbly from the couch. Oliver finished up and crossed the kitchen to the living room, settling himself against the arm of the couch and next to Connor.

After a brief silence, Connor spoke up again.

“You live alone?”

“Yeah…” Oliver looked around the living room, at the movie posters on the walls and the piles of books on his disorganized shelves and his TV across from them. “Had a roommate my first year and wanted to kill him, or myself. I’m terrible to live with.”

Connor scoffed. “You’re just too old fashioned.”

Oliver smiled at Connor. “What does that mean?”

Connor finally turned and looked at him. He did have serious bags under his eyes, his cheeks looked sunken… but at least his gaze was less sad.

“Let me guess, you like quiet. You go to bed early, you always wash your dishes and you hate sharing your personal space.”

“I also like cooking my own meals and watching the news.” Oliver grinned. Connor rolled his eyes dramatically with a sarcastic groan.

“You’re only 20, stop being such an old man.” Connor joked.

“And you’re only 18.” Oliver countered before biting his lip.

Connor went still, staring at a spot on the coffee table.

“Why did you come here?” Oliver tried getting back on track. While seeing Connor in his own apartment excited Oliver, he knew there was a reason he was here… something must’ve happened.

Connor sighed and reached into his back pocket, procuring his phone. After unlocking it and opening a text conversation, he handed the phone to Oliver.

The wall of text was normal, father to son exchanges, but the last message Connor’s dad sent to him earlier today made fury and anguish boil inside him.

_Don’t come home tonight._

Oliver felt Connor’s eyes on him but he couldn’t look away from the horrible words.

“I told him last night.”

Oliver looked over to Connor, his emotions probably all over his face.

“What happened? If you want to tell me…” Oliver added softly, handing the phone back.

Connor took it silently, setting it on the table and sighing roughly, scratching the back of his head. He turned to snuggle back against Oliver’s chest, taking his arm and pulling it around him like a second blanket. Oliver pushed himself against the arm of the couch and opened his legs for Connor to be more comfortably seated between them.

Connor sighed again once he was surrounded by Oliver, but it was a more content sigh, more tired. Oliver wrapped his other arm around him to hold Connor secure, notching his chin over Connor’s shoulder.

“It came out in a fight,” Connor started, staring down at his lap. “I think my dad was holding back the urge to confront me about it all week, like he was waiting for me to slip up to point it out, or something…

“It was during dinner.”

_“You’ve been awfully quiet since Oliver left.” Mr. Walsh commented casually, barely touching his food._

_Connor’s stomach leaped into his throat but he made no movements. “Have I?”_

_Mr. Walsh propped his elbows on the table, fingers laced to make a bridge._

_“Where did you two go, Sunday morning?”_

_Connor stared dumbly at his father, or as dumbly as he could mask his face into._

_“We told you, out for a run.”_

_“Where did you really go?”_

_Connor watched his father, fear bubbling up in his veins._

_“Around the block. Dad.” He bit out._

_Tense silence filled the room, both men staring at one another, waiting for the other to break._

_“Don’t lie to me.” Mr. Walsh’s voice no longer feigned civil curiosity. “I know what disgusting, immoral thoughts go through your head.”_

_Connor shook his head. “Dad…”_

_“What you made Cole do.”_

_Something snapped in Connor at the name of his old neighbor. His hands slammed on the table._

_“You did that!”_

_Mr. Walsh didn’t sway, but his voice rose. “You corrupted him with your sinful acts—“_

_“He was my boyfriend!”_

_“Don’t say that!” Mr. Walsh stood up from his chair, Connor followed suit, refusing to back down._

“Who’s Cole?” Oliver interrupted the story quietly, relaxing his arms around Connor, he hadn’t realized he’d been clutching him a little too tightly. He remembered that name from their close call on Sunday.

Connor went quiet. Oliver waited while Connor collected himself, letting his hand be taken and fingers played with.

“Cole was the one who my dad caught me with. He wasn’t really my boyfriend… but the first boy I felt genuine feelings for. We had been fooling around for a while until my dad found out.”

Connor pulled his knees up, turning himself into a ball against Oliver.

“My dad told his parents what we had done… he wasn’t allowed to see me, he didn’t come to school… and he killed himself later that year.”

Oliver’s body went numb. “Connor…” He squeezed Connor close again. “I’m so sorry.”

They sat in silence for a minute or so, Oliver stroking his thumb up and down the back of Connor’s hand.

“It was four years ago I should be over it…” Connor’s voice sounded thick.

Oliver couldn’t fathom the pain Connor must’ve gone through when it happened, or the years following. Oliver never felt the grief of loss, except for his pet cat when he was 11… but he’d never experienced a loved one committing suicide.

“I don’t think someone could ever get over that…” Oliver spoke softly, openly. He knew it was different for someone like Connor, especially Connor, who’s own father blamed him for Cole’s death. Judging by his reaction, maybe for a while, Connor blamed himself too.

“Anyway…” Connor sniffled. Oliver wondered if Connor purposefully wanted to retell the story sitting like this, so Oliver wouldn’t see his face.

“That was brought back up, and we had a shouting match… and then he brought up you again and I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want him telling your family, even if he had no proof… he’d tell your parents to keep an eye on your or something so,” Connor took a breath.

“I told him that yes, I was gay, and I had a crush on you, and on Sunday tried to confess my feelings for you, but you rejected me… because you’re straight.”

Oliver felt paralyzed. But before he could say anything, Connor was talking again.

“It got the attention off you, so he’s just angry with me now.”

 _“Have you learned nothing? Have I taught you nothing?” Mr. Walsh was crossing the room now to stand in front of his son. “The Bible says in Leviticus 20:13_ , ‘If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall _—“_

 _“--_ surely be put to death _’ yeah dad, I know the fucking verse. You know what else the Bible says?” Connor’s chest puffed out, feeding off the appalled look his dad gave him. “‘_ The man who hates and divorces his wife does violence to the one he should protect, says the Lord Almighty. So be on your guard, and do not be unfaithful _’ Pastor Walsh. Malachi 2:16.” Connor spat the scripture, brows narrow and eyes shining._

_Mr. Walsh glared at his son. “Go to your room, get out of my sight.”_

_“Gladly.” Connor turned on his heel and left his father fuming in the dining room._

“He hasn’t spoken to me since, except that text I got while I was in class.”

A disorienting cascade of emotions collided inside Oliver. Anger, sadness, frustration… he didn’t know what to say. All the worrying he went through this week led up to this and now he felt awful for Connor and stupid for, in a way, hyping this up.

“I’m so sorry, Connor…”

Connor shrugged. Oliver wondered what his face betrayed.

“… Do you have the whole Bible memorized or something?”

Connor let out an unexpected bark of laughter. Oliver smiled.

“I’ve read it all, believe it or not.” Connor supplied, relaxing a bit.

“So you’re able to get in a scripture battle with anyone? That’s pretty impressive.”

Connor scoffed, shaking his head. “No it’s not, it’s lame, you can say it.”

The silence that fell between them was easier now, relaxing.

“I really am sorry you had to come out like that… your dad sucks.”

Connor exhaled loudly. “Yeah, what did you expect though. It’s fine, I’ll deal with it.”

Oliver bit his lip. “Also, thanks for, you know… protecting me.” He didn’t have to do it, Connor didn’t have to go out of his way to keep Oliver in the closet.

“I’m not gonna out you.” Connor turned his head to awkwardly find Oliver’s eyes. “I’ll never do that again, intentionally or otherwise.”

Oliver leaned forward, tapping his nose to Connor’s.

“You’re good, Connor. You’re a good person.”

Connor smiled ruefully. “No I’m not. I fuck everything up.”

“Your heart is good though.” Oliver pushed his forehead to Connor’s, letting his eyes slip shut. “It’s my favorite thing about you.”

Connor scoffed again, Oliver could feel his eye roll. “You cheese ball. I know that’s not your favorite.”

Oliver opened his eyes to see Connor’s sinister smile, that crooked lip that got Oliver’s heart racing every time he saw it.

“What is then?”

Connor’s eyes turned knowing, piercing, it struck Oliver dumb.

“My mouth.” His smile spread to show teeth, which his tongue moved behind tantalizingly. It immediately grabbed Oliver’s attention.

“I think you’re right,” Oliver breathed, gaze fixed to said mouth.

“Mm…” Connor hummed, twisting in Oliver’s embrace to face him better. “Especially when it’s on you, around your cock, making you scream.”

Oliver’s breathing became shallow, teasing himself and Connor by brushing their lips together.

“And that stupid smirk you do.”

Connor pulled away minutely, throwing Oliver a shit-eating grin.

“This one?”

Connor’s features fell into the effortless look, the smirk that meant he’d gotten what he wanted, or was just about to, before he dove back down to seal that sly smile against Oliver’s open mouth.

Oliver’s arms slipped around Connor’s middle as he deepened the kiss, taking it slow and casual at first. Connor turned further so he was fully on top of Oliver, chests pressed together and tangled in the blanket Connor had cocooned himself in.

Oliver broke the kiss with a laugh, feeling Connor’s arms struggling between them.

“I’m stuck.”

“Now I have you where I want you,” Oliver grinned, moving his hands to Connor’s face and kissing him again.

Connor wriggled on top of him, the rough motions of him yanking one arm out of the blanket, then the other, amusing Oliver and causing him to snicker.

“Shut up,” Connor grumbled against his lips, slipping his tongue past and roughly continuing the kiss, ceasing Oliver’s laughter and making him moan deeply. Connor’s hands slipped around his head, fingers threading in Oliver’s hair, and tugging, causing Oliver’s neck to stretch out uncomfortably over the end of the couch while Connor continued shimmying out of the blanket, climbing over Oliver.

With the comforter finally out of the way, Connor sat up, lips still connected, using his hands instead to now pull Oliver up, supporting his head and rolling his hips, making them both groan.

“There’s something I’ve been dying to see.” Connor broke off, nibbling his way up Oliver’s neck to his ear.

“Yeah?” Oliver’s hands fall to Connor’s ass, squeezing it and guiding it back down to line up with Oliver’s gentle thrusts.

Connor nips Oliver’s ear, making a shiver run down the older man’s body.

“Your bedroom.”

Oliver bit back a grin, hiding his face in Connor’s neck.

“Oh, there’s not a lot there...” His hands travel up Connor’s back. “Some dirty clothes, books, this broken computer I’ve been meaning to fix…”

Oliver leaned back, avoiding Connor’s eyes to keep his face straight as his hands came around Connor’s shoulders, fingers landing on the zipper to his hoodie and pulling it down.

“You got a bed?” Connor’s voice was playful, sarcastic. Oliver bit his lip.

“It’s not much— “

“I’d love to see it.” Connor interrupted, pulling off his hoodie and without hesitance, the shirt underneath as well, putting Oliver face-to-face with Connor’s lean chest.

Before Oliver could think of another smart remark, Connor took his face again, angling it up, and laying a kiss back on his lips.

“Please show me,” Connor mumbled against Oliver’s mouth before exploring it with his tongue.

Oliver’s moan turned into a low whine as Connor’s hand slipped away and over Oliver’s crotch, bringing attention to his half hard dick straining in his jeans.

Gathering up Connor in his arms, Oliver couldn’t help but think how this whole situation had turned erotic so quickly… not that he was complaining. If Connor wanted distraction or comfort from the hell his day had been, Oliver was willing to oblige.

Depositing Connor on the bed, and letting himself be pulled down as well, Oliver crawled over him while Connor scooted backward, lips slipping around each other’s mouths and jaw.

Connor grumbled while his hands fumbled with Oliver’s jeans, getting the button and zipper and pulling them just low enough to stick his hand in and grab Oliver.

Oliver choked on his moan, not expecting the suddenness of Connor’s movements.

And that’s how Connor took control of the situation, forcefully and fast. A strong hand pumping Oliver until he was rock hard and grinding down onto Connor’s lap. Oliver felt his arms shaking, hovering above Connor while his skillful hands continued to pleasure him while simultaneously getting his pants lower and lower, their lips brushing, breathing each other’s air, Oliver’s mouth exploring down Connor’s neck and nipping the flesh behind his ear, nearly losing it as Connor’s responding whine.

Soon Connor’s hand left, letting Oliver sit up and yank off his jeans the rest of the way, Connor watching him before Oliver had his hands on his hips, helping Connor tear off his own pants, smiling like an idiot the entire time.

Feeling bold, and high off Connor’s energy, Oliver remounted Connor, knees on either side of his hips, naked and lazily rutting against each other while he made of a show of slowly peeling off the last item of clothing between them, Oliver’s shirt.

Connor’s hands were immediately on his chest, thumbs tweaking his nipples and causing Oliver to arch into it.

Connor leaned forward, wrapping a hand around the back of Oliver’s neck and pulling him back in for a bruising kiss, speaking hotly into his mouth.

“I want to fuck you.”

A bolt of arousal shot through Oliver’s body, straight to his cock, which brushed tantalizingly against Connor’s.

“I’m yours.”

Oliver felt Connor’s sharp smirk against his lips before he was flipped on his back, Connor on top and kissing him with a passion that made Oliver’s head spin.

Oliver hadn’t turned on the light when they entered his room, only registering shadows and going off the light coming in from the living room. But he felt Connor’s tongue traveling down his neck, to his chest, sucking on a nipple, then the other, making Oliver shamelessly whine and close his eyes, indulging in the feeling of Connor’s hair brushing along his abdomen and lower.

With a command to turn over, Oliver did so, having half a mind to reach over and pull open his night stand drawer, procuring condoms and lube.

Connor snatched the bottle and before Oliver knew it, Connor’s lips were back on him, kissing his spine and inserting a finger in his hole. Oliver’s head fell to the pillow, jaw dropped in a silent groan as Connor leaned further up, his lips brushing Oliver’s ear to whisper into it.

“Mine.” As he spoke, Connor added another slicked up finger, slowly pushing in and out.

The word, spoken in Connor’s low voice, without question, made Oliver’s skin prickle. It had been a while since he’d had anything besides his own fingers in his ass, but Oliver was used to bottoming, naturally falling into the submissive role. Though the way Connor handled him, his free hand caressing up and down his body while his fingers patiently stretched him, didn’t feel submissive. Connor made Oliver feel… wanted, needed, and Oliver wanted to give his body to him.

And when Connor was finally in him, it was rough and raw and lewd and everything Oliver didn’t realize he needed until Connor was there, deep enough to make Oliver’s toes curl and strong hands gripping his hips, pulling him back to meet every thrust and _God_ —Oliver never screamed like that in his life.

The praises that tumbled out of Connor’s mouth only turned Oliver on more, his untouched dick achingly hard and leaking, twitching, finding some kind of friction with every word.

_“Ah fuck, Ollie…”_

_“You feel so fucking good...”_

_“So hot, holy shit—“_

“Connor!” Oliver shouted. Connor picked up the pace, striking his prostate dead on over and over and making Oliver see white.

He wanted to make it last though, didn’t want to touch his throbbing cock, because he knew once he did it would all be over. He wanted Connor to continue fucking him like nothing else mattered, like no one else mattered, fast and hard and painful cos it all felt so good. Oliver had a crazy thought that he’d bend over anywhere for Connor, as long as he kept saying his name like that and touching him while his hips snapped forward, rolled and adjusted to every intrusion to keep exploring him like that.

Connor let out a long, low moan before leaning forward, slick chest slipping against Oliver’s back to growl in his ear.

“I’m so close, babe.”

Oliver turned his head and wrapped a hand around Connor’s head to collide their mouths together in a sloppy kiss while Connor continued to move. He never stopped, only slowed or sped up and it was pure ecstasy.

“Touch me, Connor.”

A hand was on Oliver’s dick immediately, firm and matching the outrageous rapidness of Connor’s thrusts. Oliver cried out in Connor’s mouth, fingers tightening in his hair as he rode out his orgasm.

“Fuck—Oliver—“

With a straggled groan, Connor’s hips slowed before snapping forward suddenly, each time tearing an unconscious whine from Oliver’s lips. He felt the pulsations of Connor’s cock inside him and wished he could feel his cum shooting up his ass, the warmth and claim it would have. God, he wanted it so bad, he felt insane.

With a final few lazy thrusts, Connor finally pulled out, slowly, sliding his body down Oliver’s back, kissing and licking up sweat as he moved. Oliver twitched every time Connor’s tongue touched his flesh, over sensitive and loving every second of the afterglow.

Connor left the bed with one final kiss to Oliver’s ass to dispose of the condom, and returned with a napkin.

Oliver already had collapsed, laying on his side, eyes closed and getting his breathing back to normal. He felt a dip in the bed as Connor arrived, and slid his eyes open to see him clean up the cum on the bed sheet before tossing the soiled napkin onto the floor and plopping down where it had been.

Oliver reached forward without thinking and gathered Connor in his arms, nuzzling his nose up Connor’s face to kiss into his hairline.

Connor gave a tired giggle.

“I love how you go from sex god to teddy bear in nothing flat.”

Oliver grinned foolishly.

“I’ve never been fucked like that.”

Connor tilted his head and kissed Oliver, slow and deep, his fingers grazing down the back of Oliver’s neck.

“It’s cos you drive me absolutely wild.” As he spoke, Connor hiked a leg up and over Oliver’s hips, pressing their fronts flush together and making Oliver whimper as their privates brushed, tender and soft and so good.

They lazily rocked back and forth while they made out, hands everywhere, exploring each other’s faces, arms, chests, stomach…

Oliver’s heart ached, beating faster with every small gasp and moan Connor made.

_Fuck._

_I love him._

“Ready for round two?” Oliver asked, breathless in his own realization. Needless to say, his cock was rock hard again.

Connor laughed softly, his eyes light and playful. Oliver pushed him onto his back and rolled his hips down, swallowing Connor’s approving moan.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: I’ve made Connor clean shaven! It kinda hit me last chapter that he just looks too old in my mind, writing Connor as an 18 year old with a fully constructed beard. Connor may have the suavity and confidence of an adult but dammit he’s still just a baby to me in this AU so BEARD BE GONE.
> 
> Now let’s contradict that and make Connor and Oliver fuck like porn stars lmao. Oh you thought I was done writing explicit sex scenes? Well guess what?? These boys are young and love DOIN’ IT.

Oliver woke up first, feeling kisses up his spine and a hand on his ass, fondling gently, pulling one cheek away and… yep, definitely a dick sliding up and down his butt.

He yawned, stretching and arching forward and smiling to himself at the resulting noise of approval from behind.

“What’s going on back there?” Oliver asked, voice low and husky from sleep.

Connor shuffled so Oliver was spooned against him.

“I’ve never woken up with someone before…” His hand traveled up Oliver’s side, unashamedly slipping over his chest and pulling Oliver back while he tiredly rolled his hips.

“You like?” Oliver turned his head, catching a peripheral look at Connor’s wild bed head.

“I like,” Connor whispered, biting Oliver’s ear.

Goosebumps raised along Oliver’s arm.

“Do that again,” Oliver commanded.

Connor bit down just below Oliver’s ear, relishing in the provocative moan it caused. He did it again, a little lower, and on his shoulder, before going back to Oliver’s neck, beautifully stretched out, begging to be marked up. So Connor did, latching his mouth over Oliver’s flesh and biting down hard before sucking.

“ _Ah_ …” Oliver cried softly, rocking his hips back against Connor’s hard length. A hand snaked into Connor’s hair, fingers tangled and gripping his head, encouraging him.

“ _Nng_ …” Oliver bit his lip before shuddering pleasantly as Connor’s hand traveled from his chest down his soft abs, stomach, taking hold of Oliver’s cock and stroking it gently.

Connor released Oliver’s skin with a final pull, licking and kissing the angry red area after.

“Ollie.” Connor’s head fell to the juncture where neck met shoulder, panting as he continued rutting against Oliver’s ass. “I could cum just listening to the noises you make.”

“Oh yeah?” Oliver encouraged, reaching back and hooking his fingers around Connor’s knee to pull it up and over his hip before replacing Connor’s hand on his penis with his own, leaving it to wrap around Oliver’s body as he thrust harder.

“ _Yes_ , Ollie…” Connor breathed in his ear, making every hair on Oliver’s body stand up.

Lazy morning orgasms was one of Oliver’s favorite things, especially with someone else wrapped around you… but Connor had never experienced it. Oliver got a thrill knowing he was Connor’s first in something and wanted to make it a lasting impression.

Oliver felt Connor’s cum shoot onto his lower back at the same time he choked back a groan and came in his fist.

“You’re killing me,” Connor murmured, collapsing boneless onto the bed once more.

Oliver finally turned, facing Connor and smiling at the sight.

“How so?”

“Four times in a row… I’ve never even managed three. My ass is so sore.”

Oliver grinned naughtily and laughed at the playful glare Connor gave him. That’s right… after Oliver fucked Connor last night, they forced themselves out of bed, ate and drank coffee… then, refueled, had sex in the shower. Well, if giving each other handies underneath the hot spray counted.

Oliver scooted closer, kissing Connor’s forehead and gently slipping his hand to caress down Connor’s hip.

“Sorry not sorry. You love it.”

Connor’s eyes softened, humming.

“I do…” He shuffled to cuddle with Oliver again. “I love it a lot.”

Oliver’s eyes searched Connor’s face, studied his stubbled chin, the handful of freckles dotting his face, his bushy eyebrows and ungelled, crazy hair. Stuck up in odd places from sleeping on it wet. His eyes, almost golden brown in the morning sun, had lost their purple bags from last night. Though premature lines still lingered in the corners.

Oliver didn’t voice it, but he wondered how Connor felt… Oliver had never had sex like that. Even when they first fucked in the church, there was this synchronicity between them. A chemistry that scared Oliver a little… they were never awkward, like sleeping with someone for the first time usually is. It was like they already knew each other, yet still learning, discovering, stumbling into new territories with ease instead of bumps and bruises. Certainly Connor didn’t feel this way for anyone else, he’d told Oliver how he’s a one-and-done kind of guy.

Maybe it was like this with Cole?

It burned Oliver, the curiosity. But he wouldn’t press it. Wouldn’t ask, he had to let Connor lead… he was too scared to lose this… whatever this was.

Oliver’s phone rang then, interrupting his musings. He turned around, wondering who could be calling him so early.

Nabbing his glasses and his phone, he read the caller ID.

“Who is it?”

“My mom…” Oliver stared at the screen, bewildered. She never called him in the mornings, knowing how he liked to sleep in.

Oliver threw Connor a look. “Don’t say anything.”

Connor’s brows lowered like, _duh_.

“Hello?” Oliver answered, sitting up a bit and pulling the blanket with him.

“ _Oh, Oliver._ Salamat sa Diyos _. Do you know where Connor is? He never came home last night, his father is looking for him.”_

Oliver shot a sideways glance at Connor, who obviously heard her words. He shook his head.

“No…” Oliver trailed off. “Mr. Walsh called you?”

“ _Yes, I just got off the phone with him. I told him to call the police but he said not to worry but if he doesn’t soon I will!”_

“Ah, mom—“ Connor looked terrified. “I think that’s something Mr. Walsh has to do—in either case—“ Oliver interrupted his mother who started rambling again. “I’ll call him, maybe he’ll answer the phone for me.”

“ _Has he texted you at all?”_

Oliver licked his lips and looked to Connor for an answer. Connor nodded furiously, gesturing with his hand to keep talking.

“Y-yeah, nothing unusual though.”

“ _Lia, give me the phone_.” Oliver swallowed hard, that was his father.

After the sound of the phone being transferred, Oliver’s father’s gruff voice spoke in his ear.

“ _Oliver, listen, if Connor is with you just say so. Your mother is worried sick and I’m sure Pastor Walsh isn’t fairing any better so_ —“

“He’s not with me, why would I hide that?” Oliver snapped, regretting it immediately.

Silence fell on the other end. Connor crept closer to listen in better.

“ _Are you lying to me?”_

Oliver’s heart leapt into his throat. He hated when his father used that tone of voice. The low, menacing one he’d use when him and Caden were kids and getting into trouble.

“No… I swear I have no clue where he is. But after we hang up I’ll call him and let you know if he tells me anything.”

Silence again. Oliver could practically hear his mother fretting in the background.

“ _Alright. Let us know. Let me give you Pastor Walsh’s phone number.”_

Oliver pretended to write it down and hung up with a promise to stay in touch, before finally dropping the phone to his lap and exhaling.

A beat passed before Connor growled.

“What an asshole!” He rolled out of bed, snagging his underwear and stomping to the living room.

Oliver stumbled behind, pulling his own linen pajama bottoms on as he went.

“He told me not to come home!” Connor shouted to himself, swiping up his forgotten phone on the coffee table and checking his messages.

One text message that read, “ _Where are you?_ ” Sent at 4am, and a missed call sent a few hours after.

Connor scoffed, shaking his head at the text.

“I should ignore him, right?”

Oliver licked his lips. “Probably not the best idea… maybe at least let him know you’re safe so he doesn’t actually call the police or something.”

Connor stared down at his phone, calculating.

“I really don’t want to.”

Oliver walked up to Connor.

“You need to.”

Connor sighed, pulling a hand through his hair.

He typed out a quick text, sent it, and turned his phone to black.

“There.”

Oliver nodded. “Good.”

And then his phone rang.

“God dammit.” Connor grumbled, staring at the Dad ID. Oliver blinked in shock when Connor answered it.

“What?”

“ _Where are you?_ ” His father demanded.

“Not at home, just like you asked.” Connor spat, turning away from Oliver to pace the room.

Oliver sat on his couch. He couldn’t hear what Mr. Walsh was saying anymore.

“Oh my God. Dad, why would I be with him, he rejected me remember?”

Oliver clutched his hands together nervously.

“Don’t worry about that, just know I’m fine and don’t call me again.” Connor hung up and, for good measure, turned his phone off.

“I feel like I’m being pulled into a crime.” Oliver half joked as Connor dropped his phone back on the table and went for his backpack.

“Sorry…” Connor at least sounded sincere. He dropped his bag on the couch. “Just didn’t expect him to freak out over this.”

“Maybe he didn’t think you’d actually listen to him.”

Connor scoffed. “Maybe.”

Oliver watched Connor unloading his book bag, taking out text books, sheets of paper, notebooks, folders… setting them all in a heap on the coffee table. He stood up, taking Connor’s shaking hands and holding him still.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

Connor sighed roughly, staring at the floor.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to involve you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Oliver insisted, taking Connor’s shoulders, turning him to face Oliver.

“Get dressed, I’ll make breakfast.”

Connor looked up.

“I have no extra clothes.”

Oliver scrutinized Connor before heading back into his room, sensing Connor follow behind.

“But I can spend the day naked, if you’d like.”

Oliver grinned, shaking his head. He rummaged through his closet, finding an old shirt he hardly wore anymore before going through his drawers and pulling out a pair of jeans that fit him back in high school.

“Here,” Oliver tossed Connor the clothes. “Try these on.”

As Connor got dressed, something stirred in Oliver, seeing Connor in his clothes. Something dangerously fond and loving. Oliver wanted to close the distance between them, pull on that old, ratted shirt that hung just a tad too loose on Connor and bring him that much closer. He just wanted to _feel_ Connor in his clothes, he wanted to snuggle up in a tight embrace and watch a dumb movie while Connor was in his clothes. It was so stupid.

_I really am going crazy._

“…What?” Connor had his arms out wide, asking _how do I look_ nonverbally.

Oliver shook his head, stepping up to Connor and, unable to resist, pecked his lips.

Oliver bit his lip to resist calling Connor cute and instead walked around the baffled youth to exit the bedroom.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

Oliver heard an “Uh…” from behind followed by a chuckle.

“French toast?”

Oliver nabbed his hoodie draped over a chair in the kitchen and pulled it on, opening the fridge and taking out what he needed.

“With cinnamon?” He glanced over at Connor.

“Obviously.” Connor grinned, lounging against the counter and watching Oliver prepare.

It was weirdly domestic, Oliver thought to himself. Connor ran to him, to Oliver when he could’ve gone anywhere else. He had friends in school, he had his mom in Michigan if he wanted to go far and be safe.

Maybe his mother wouldn’t understand. Connor never mentioned that anyone outside of school knew of his sexual identity. They way Connor would go on about her though, Oliver knew he respected and loved her more than his father, she would probably be more open and understanding to Connor coming out.

Connor didn’t need to come to Oliver. But he did… and he was staying, he wasn’t nervous or on edge…

Oliver peeked over at him on the couch, where they ate breakfast and the TV went on in the background, playing Saturday morning cartoons. It was surreal. Connor looked so relaxed and, dare Oliver suspect, happy. Eating his gooey french toast with too much syrup, eyes locked to the TV while Tom chased Jerry around the house.

“I used to watch these old cartoons all the time, growing up.” Connor commented offhand, licking his sticky lips. “Mom and dad always put it on for Gemma and me every Saturday morning.”

It was hard to imagine Connor as a kid, small, naïve, innocent. Being raised in a whole family with an older sister who would tease him and a mom who would fuss over him. How old was Connor when she left? Thirteen?

“Why did your parents separate?”

Oliver was already facing Connor when he asked, ready to meet whatever Connor threw at him. Which, surprisingly, wasn’t anything fake or nervous or malicious.

“If you want to tell me…” Oliver finished politely, setting his plate on the table.

Connor shrugged, looking back to the TV.

“Gemma was in college at the time. And, I don’t know, her not being in the house anymore had changed something in dad. He also got his first church and started preaching and he was never the same…” Connor licked his fork clean and set his plate down too. The sound of cartoon antics continued on in the background.

“He was getting real strict, real mean with mom. She fought for a divorce for years, but dad never wanted it. Said it was a sin and ‘what would the church think.’” Connor rolled his eyes.

“But he finally relented. He insisted I stay with him so I could finish school and mom thought it was okay…” Connor’s voice got quiet. “Dad had never treated me any different, in fact he really liked me, in the beginning. It was like, he’d lost his daughter so he had clung onto me, wanted to raise me into what he wanted me to be, I don’t know.”

Connor rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, that’s why.” Connor leaned back against the cushions, rubbing his stomach. “I don’t think they ever actually liked each other. Growing up with them, they always fought over nothing. Dad wasn’t even a Christian when they got married, which was crazy young anyway. Like, mom was 20 and dad was 23.”

“Is your mom religious?”

“Not really,” Connor answered, eyes lost in thought. “She’s always been about making your own path, but she wasn’t mad when I told her I was studying the Bible too.”

Oliver leaned back, his shoulder almost touching Connor’s.

“Do you think your dad will tell her about what happened?”

Connor shook his head without question.

“The only time they talk anymore is for legal reasons. He doesn’t care what she thinks.”

They sat in silence, not really paying attention to the TV anymore. Oliver was glad Connor was willingly opening up, honestly answering his personal questions. He wanted to know so much more about Connor, little things. Like his favorite food or school subject… probably English.

“How close is Boston?” Connor questioned suddenly.

“Uh…” Oliver squinted. “Just across the bridge.” He looked at Connor. “Why?”

“Can we go? I’ve always wanted to visit.”

Oliver held back his laughter at Connor’s barely restrained excitement.

“It’s basically Philly, but condensed and no one knows how to drive.”

Connor groaned. “Of course a local would say that. I wanna see Fenway Park.”

Oliver gagged. “You’re a Red Sox fan? Get out of my apartment.”

“I swear I’m not!” Connor defended with a laugh as Oliver hit him with a throw pillow. “I just like baseball.”

After more pleading and naming of all the historical sites Connor wanted to visit, Oliver finally conceded… honestly dragging it out because seeing Connor in a new light (excited tourist) was way too fun.

“Fine. But we’re not driving.”

 

Taking the train into Boston, walking around and exploring, struck Oliver with a heavy sense of déjà vu, of his and Connor’s first “date” in Philadelphia. Except this time, they didn’t talk about themselves much. Oliver had only been to Boston a few times since moving to Cambridge, once for a class trip and another to meet a guy on tinder… that hadn’t ended well.

They hardly spoke at all, only enjoyed each other’s company. Oliver snuck a few pictures of Connor, who made him delete one when he found out. And shoving his hands into his pockets to prevent himself from doing something stupid like take Connor’s hand or brush hair out of his eyes while he stared up at stupid Fenway Stadium. His heart kept doing back flips every time Oliver saw Connor smile or bump his shoulder. He hadn’t thought about it all day, hoping that little realization was just a result of mind blowing sex… but it wasn’t. Oliver loved Connor and after 12 hours the feeling only solidified itself in his being.

At a science museum, staring at skulls and the human body following physical trauma, Connor stepped up to Oliver and pulled him down for a kiss in full view of other guests and the security guard. That didn’t help clear Oliver’s love sick brain.

And during an early dinner at some over-priced burger joint, Connor’s shoes touched Oliver’s, sliding up his leg and nearly making Oliver spit into his drink. He was still too scared to bring up them though, what Connor was thinking every time he made a move on Oliver or smiled at him, really smiled. Oliver wondered if Connor could see it in his eyes, in his gaze, if he was giving it all away by staring for too long.

Luckily, before Oliver could do something _really_ ridiculous like reach over and wipe food off Connor’s mouth, his phone chimed with a text message.

“Shit…” Oliver mumbled to himself, reading the text from Michaela. “I forgot I’m hosting a study party tonight…”

Connor swallowed what was in his mouth, speaking with exaggerated sarcasm.

“A _study party_?”

“Shut up,” Oliver chided with a smile. “I’ll just reschedule for next week…”

“No, it’s okay,” Connor touched a greasy finger to Oliver’s arm. “It’s fine, I want to meet your friends anyway.”

Oliver stared blankly at Connor. “Really?”

Connor retracted his hand and shrugged, looking at the table and taking a large bite of his burger.

“I mean, if you want. I don’t care.”

“No—I…” Oliver stumbled over his words. “Why do you want to?”

It was a stupid question, probably. If their relationship was any kind of normal it would be stupid to ask why Connor would ever think of meeting Oliver’s friends. They weren’t committed, Oliver didn’t need his friend’s approval and Connor was never going to see them again anyway… though that thought made Oliver’s stomach churn.

Connor looked back at him, reserved. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Oliver opened his mouth to answer, then closed it, looking down at his phone again. He typed out a confirmation for 7pm and pocketed the device.

“You wanna cover up that hickey?” Connor’s question sounded like an offer, biting his straw with a sinister smile.

Oliver’s hand flew to his neck. He’d nearly forgotten.

“Shit.”

 

Oliver owned one turtle neck and he hated it. He wondered if it would be better to just let it hang out in the open… the large red blotch on his neck. But he didn’t need his friends, his classmates to gawk at it, especially Michaela.

At least Connor’s thirsty gaze as he fussed with the dark grey sweater gave Oliver a little confidence boost. The long sleeve was a little tight on him.

Connor made himself comfortable on the couch as Oliver’s guests arrived, each exuberantly greeting Oliver and carrying with them heavy messenger bags and a grocery bag full of snacks.

Oliver kept an eye on Connor as the handful of college students made themselves at home, noting with a sense of ease how he interacted with everyone as if catching up with old friends.

“Oliver,” Michaela pranced into the living room after setting the food on Oliver’s tiny dining table. “Is this the famous Connor I’ve heard so much about?”

Oliver sent her a warning glare. There was a mischievous, playful look in her eyes that Oliver didn’t much care for. Connor stood up to shake her hand with a knowing smile of his own. Oliver swallowed, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

“Guys,” Oliver announced to the room. “This is Connor, he’s a friend visiting from my home town.” If anyone caught Oliver’s hesitance on the title of “friend” they didn’t show it. A flash of something like irritation crossed Connor’s face at the innocent word, but when Oliver looked again it was gone, like he’d imagined it.

They chatted amicably for a while, some of Oliver’s friends (Wes and Calvin) shocked to hear Connor was still a senior in high school when asked where he went to school, expecting a college name. Connor presented himself with a maturity beyond his years, Oliver wasn’t surprised at the mistake, and Connor looked flattered with the misconception.

Soon they all settled down and got to work, the students sitting on the floor or couch, working behind laptops or textbooks with the coffee table littered with pages and texts, chips with guacamole and hummus sitting in the center of it all.

Oliver smiled a little to himself, watching Connor get in on it too. He was curled up on a corner of the couch, a pencil behind his ear and a highlighter in one hand while he read _Lord of the Flies_ , more than halfway through. He would stop every now and then to scribble something in the book or highlight a line.

Something warm spread through Oliver’s chest at the sight. In the past hour Connor had comfortably integrated himself in Oliver’s small group of friends and was taking part of the study, even if he was doing his own thing. Connor still would look up and at least take interest in what Wes had to say or how Calvin would pipe up and insist there was something missing before Michaela groaned in frustration, demanding of Oliver to buy a white board so she wouldn’t have to write out equations on paper to pass around the room.

Soon they moved onto flash cards, quizzing each other on technical terms and old pioneers alike. Connor quietly excused himself, moving to the kitchen and sitting at the table to continue reading in a slightly less chaotic setting.

Oliver got up too, under the pretense to refill his coffee, to check up on Connor.

“Hey, doing alright?” Oliver spoke as he poured himself a fresh cup.

“Yeah…” Connor said distractedly, finishing a paragraph and setting the book spine down. “I like your friends, nerdy computer geeks just like you.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Glad you approve. Like the book?”

“Oh, yeah. Really good.” Connor nodded to the worn out copy. “Did you read this in high school?”

Oliver nodded. “I didn’t like it.”

“What?” Connor's eyes lit up. “It’s such a good reflection on man’s inherent evil and the power of fear… so much heavy stuff.”

Oliver nearly scoffed. “You writing a book report?”

At Connor’s nod, Oliver hummed.

“I think that’s why I don’t like it.” Oliver slouched next to Connor. “It just reaffirms what the Bible says about how we’re all born into sin and, without discipline, we’d never learn what’s good and right.”

“But it’s true.” Connor said softly. “Everyone’s capable of doing bad things, we just need that primal nudge.”

Oliver shook his head. “I like to believe everyone is good, and it’s the power of influence that shapes people into being bad.”

“Are you one of those people who blames school shootings on the kid’s upbringing? Violent video games?”

Oliver laughed without humor. “Are we getting into an argument?”

Connor shrugged. “One that you’d lose.”

“Okay,” Oliver said with finality. “We can talk about this later.”

He straightened up and moved to head back to the living room, when Connor’s voice stopped him.

“Hey, do you think we would have been friends if we met in school?”

Oliver turned, studying Connor’s face.

“I mean, didn’t we?”

Connor shook his head, a grin forming on his lips.

“No like, we meet in grade school. You’re a senior and I’m the freshman. We wouldn’t share classes but we’d see each other in the halls and during games and stuff…”

Oliver walked back to Connor, leaning down to rest his elbows on the table next to him.

“I don’t know,” Oliver admitted. “I was super scrawny in high school, anti-social, shy… I cared more about getting good grades and playing games on my computer than making friends or standing out.”

Connor leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand and watching Oliver like he was trying to picture it. Oliver as a teenager, just a couple years ago, shorter, skinnier, even more awkward than he was now.

“I bet you’re one of the cool kids, huh? You wouldn’t take a second look at me.” Oliver finished.

After a beat Connor hummed. “I don’t know. I know I’m a brat, and vain…

“But, if we get along now, why wouldn’t we as kids?”

Oliver shook his head, unconvinced.

“I’m just glad I met you now.” He said, voice soft, watching Connor’s thoughtful eyes, light brown and curious, young and charming.

Connor slipped a hand up Oliver’s jaw, cupping his cheek. They fell into each other slowly, eyes slipping shut together and lips pressing in a gentle kiss.

It was lips only, soft and sweet, making Oliver’s chest constrict tightly as Connor’s hand traveled light as a feather down his jaw and around, pressing his fingers against the nape of Oliver’s neck.

Oliver exhaled softly as Connor pulled back, his eye lids fluttering open to see Connor’s gaze on him. Oliver swallowed, Connor wore bedroom eyes like he was the inspiration for the phrase. Eyes dark and heavy and so goddamn sexy.

A quiet cough broke the trance. Oliver and Connor looked sideways at the same time to see Michaela lounging against the entry way to the kitchen, smiling.

Oliver felt heat engulf his neck, but before he could say something embarrassing like “how long have you been there,” Michaela spoke.

“Just getting a refill.” She walked past the pair with a barely concealed twinkle in her eyes, opening the fridge and pulling out milk.

Oliver brought his lips in and stood up straight, noticing Connor’s wide, unguarded smile in his peripheral. He stood frozen as Michaela busied herself with her coffee, knowing he should move but not wanting Connor to be left alone with Michaela, the queen of inserting herself in other people’s business.

After putting away the milk, she moved around them, back out the way she came, but stopped to wink at Connor.

“I give you my blessing.”

Oliver choked on his own spit and Connor chuckled.

“Thanks.”

 

It was nearing midnight when Oliver’s friends began leaving… having been done with school work hours ago and just catching up.

Michaela gave Oliver a lingering, knowing look as he walked her to the door and bid her goodnight.

“I expect a full report on Monday,” Michaela whispered to him, smirking at Oliver’s eye roll as he shut the door on her.

Oliver turned and saw Connor lounging on the couch, legs spread wide and arms casually behind his head.

Oliver cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Can you take off that sweater really slowly?”

Oliver busted out laughing.

“Not until I have all the food and shit put away.”

Connor grumbled, watching Oliver gather up the trash and leftover dips off the table.

“You’re not gonna help me?”

Connor groaned loudly, mockingly, before moving from his position and gathering up the mugs and following Oliver to the kitchen.

“My friends like you.” Oliver wet his lips as he spoke, throwing out the garbage and putting the food away.

“Yeah?”

Oliver looked to see Connor depositing the cups into the sink, rinsing them out.

“That’s good. It was a pleasant surprise, honestly, meeting them.”

Oliver hummed, meeting Connor at the sink to help him wash the dishes.

“But…” Connor hesitated, squeezing the sponge to get the soap bubbles out. “I don’t want them to think I’m just your friend…”

Oliver looked over, heart leaping in his throat. Connor dutifully kept his eyes down, scrubbing a cup with more force than necessary.

“What do you mean?” Oliver spoke softly, scared of getting too excited.

Connor rinsed the cup out and handed it to Oliver to dry but when he took it, Oliver distractedly set it on the counter, eyes never leaving Connor’s profile.

“I mean… I want to be your boyfriend,” Connor mumbled, staring at the wet cup just sitting on the counter top.

Oliver’s smile was so wide it hurt.

“You want to be my boyfriend?”

Connor huffed, finally meeting Oliver’s eyes.

“That’s what I said.”

Oliver stepped closer, getting an arm around Connor to grab the counter on his left side, caging him.

“You want to be exclusive?”

Connor turned in the snare to face Oliver.

“I haven’t even touched anyone since we first kissed.”

Oliver laughed softly, leaning down, tapping his nose to Connor’s.

“Why?”

Connor huffed, annoyed. His hands fell on Oliver’s hips.

“Because you wouldn’t leave me alone,” Connor whispered against Oliver’s lips. “Whether I was in class or trying to sleep or trying to pay attention in church you were always in my head.”

Oliver’s pulse pounded in his veins, nearly making him shake with hysteria. His hands flew to either side of Connor’s face, thumbs caressing under his eyes and into his hairline.

“I wanted to know—“ Connor’s hands reached around, grabbing Oliver’s ass and pulling him flush against him.

“—what you tasted like.” Connor licked Oliver’s lips, making the older man gasp, letting himself be teased and pushing back.

“What you would sound like...” Connor’s voice began to break as Oliver rolled his hips, bringing attention to their arousals. “…as I pushed into you and made you scream.”

“Connor…” Oliver moaned, their lips still only brushing as they grinded on each other.

“Yes?”

Oliver leaned away, enough to look into Connor’s eyes, at his parted lips, at how vulnerable and willing he looked right now.

“Me too, I want to be boyfriends.”

Connor’s mouth pulled into a shit eating grin. His hands left Oliver’s ass to also take his face, bringing their lips back together.

“Good,” Connor breathed before finally kissing Oliver.

Oliver collapsed into the kiss, moaning brokenly as Connor aggressively licked his way into Oliver’s mouth, pulling them impossibly close and making his head spin.

Their bodies moved together as they made out, Connor’s lower back digging into the edge of the counter, letting himself be crushed against it as Oliver bent him back. But any sound of protest died in Connor’s throat or came out as muffled whines of pleasure, his arms going around Oliver’s shoulders to grip his sweater and hold on while Oliver ravished him, his _boyfriend_.

Connor lifted a leg up, hooking his knee against Oliver’s side and Oliver, catching on, grabbed onto his thigh and thrust forward.

“ _Ollie_ ,” Connor choked out, moaning as Oliver forced his tongue back in Connor’s mouth.

Oliver’s head swam with want for Connor, need, undeniable glee at finally getting a concrete answer from the other man. Connor wanted him, he wanted Oliver to be _his_ and didn’t want to share. All the weeks of fretting and wondering and hoping flew out of Oliver in a blend of relief and unequivocal desire.

“C’mon…” Oliver broke off with difficulty, noticing with smug satisfaction how Connor’s lips trailed after him.

He pulled Connor along, unable to quite relinquish his hold on the youth, as they stumbled and moved along the walls to Oliver’s bedroom, stopping to push each other against anything remotely solid to continue kissing.

Having half a mind to flick on the light switch this time, Oliver pushed Connor onto the bed, grinning at the hazy, predatory gleam in his eyes.

Oliver stood over the bed, slipping out of his clothes (and getting his head nearly stuck in the turtle neck as he pulled it off) before crawling forward, pleased to see Connor pitching his last article of clothing off as well.

“Boyfriend…” Oliver whispered, bridging himself over Connor with a smile that was all too fond.

Connor laughed softly, tangling his fingers in Oliver’s hair.

“You are way too excited about this.”

Oliver could have explained that away with thoughts of how he was Connor’s _first_ boyfriend though, his first step into commitment and a real relationship. They could do anything they wanted to now without hesitation or fear… but knew to bite his tongue. Maybe Connor doesn’t know what a relationship entails, or if he does, Oliver would be willing to bet that it gave the younger man a brush of anxiety to talk about it. Feelings, family, the future. That was too much right now, and Oliver knew it.

Instead he just kissed Connor again, grinding down and moaning at the friction of their arousals touching.

They lazily made out, in no rush now that their skin was touching, cocks heavy and leaking between them as they breathed each other’s air. But Oliver felt the tight coil of arousal in his lower stomach growing and couldn’t ignore it any longer. He needed to be _in_ Connor, surrounded by tight heat and to be held and hear Connor’s broken cries again.

Oliver pushed himself onto his knees, grabbing a handful of Connor’s butt and squeezing, fingers digging into the soft flesh particularly close to his hole.

“How’s your ass feeling?”

Connor chuckled again, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“You’re seriously going to break me in half.”

“I won’t.” Oliver brought one of Connor’s legs up, kissing his knee, catching Connor’s eyes as he brought his arm down to watch.

“I’ll be gentle.” Oliver grinned, peppering kisses down Connor’s thigh, giving the flesh close to his crotch a little bite that tore an unconscious noise from Connor followed by a gasp, his cock visibly twitching.

“Yeah?” Connor panted. “Like you were last night?”

Oliver smirked. Last night he tried matching Connor’s pace from before, plowing into him hard and fast, causing the bed frame to knock, tap and bang into the wall loudly. He’d reduced Connor to high pitch squealing that made Oliver ejaculate prematurely, absolutely stunned and ridiculously turned on by the sound.

“No… I’ll go slow,” Oliver hovered his mouth over Connor’s cock, giving the head a long lick.

He spoke again over Connor’s drawn out moan. “I’d keep it real easy, even when you beg me to speed up, I’ll just go deeper, keeping still…” He kissed the side of Connor’s cock, looking up to catch Connor’s teeth worrying his bottom lip.

“I’d take care of you, Connor.”

Connor’s eyes opened to Oliver’s. They studied each other for a moment, both breathing heavily, before Connor lunged forward, grabbing Oliver by the back of the neck for another sloppy kiss. He pulled Oliver over him, arching to press his entire front against Oliver’s, moaning with a sigh as Oliver’s arm wrapped around his lower back to keep them together above the mattress.

“Fine,” Connor whispered, feeling Oliver’s snare loosen and his hips land on the blankets once more. “We’ll see who does the begging though.”

Oliver laughed, not afraid to suddenly, even with the lights on.

He reached for the lube and condoms on the night stand (left from last night) as he felt Connor roll over beneath him.

“No, no…” Oliver grabbed Connor’s shoulder, pulling and pressing him gently back on the comforters.

At Connor’s confused look, Oliver bit back a grin. “I want to look in your eyes…”

Connor blinked. “The whole time?”

Oliver’s grin escaped. “If that’s alright.”

Connor shrugged, looking down and taking the condom, keeping it in his hand for now.

Kissing Connor’s cheek, Oliver sat up, taking one of Connor’s legs and hiking it over his shoulder, popping the lube and getting a generous amount on his fingers.

He surprised Connor by inserting two fingers immediately, making the man gasp and meet his eyes again.

“You’re still so loose… It’s like you want me in there again.”

Connor’s lips parted, hands clutching the blanket beneath him while his eyes darted between watching Oliver work and his face, who looked at Connor with such unrestrained affection it made him look away.

Oliver curled his fingers just right, making Connor’s breath hitch and his heel dig into Oliver’s back. But neither said anything. Though Oliver could practically hear Connor’s thoughts, he wanted Oliver to hurry up but Oliver had made a promise to take it slow, make Connor suffer in the most indulgent way possible. He added a third finger, spreading them wide and pushing them in and out while Connor began to sweat, his body beginning to writhe and his chest heave.

“ _Ollie_ ,” Connor panted, pushing himself onto Oliver’s fingers. “You’re fucking teasing me.”

“You want more?”

“You know I do,” Connor nearly growled.

“Who’s begging now?” Oliver resisted the urge to smirk.

“You’re secretly a sadistic asshole— _Shit_ —Oliver!” Connor cried out, head falling back as Oliver’s hard, bare length entered Connor in one smooth motion.

“ _Ahh_ …” Connor exhaled, looking down slowly as Oliver’s lips found themselves on Connor’s leg again.

“God…” Oliver breathed, creeping just a little deeper inside Connor, pushing so his cock disappeared to the hilt. “You feel amazing.”

Connor moaned deeply. “Fuck… why haven’t we tried this sooner?”

 _Cos you’re mine now, and I’m yours._ Oliver thought foolishly. His naked penis felt absolutely amazing inside Connor, feeling every inch of him tightly surrounding him nearly sent Oliver over the edge, and he wasn’t even moving yet.

“Ready?”

“Like you have to ask.” Connor’s old smirk broke through. He clenched around Oliver who dropped his head back, groaning loudly and slowly pulling out to _slowly_ slide back in.

Oliver was getting too used to this, fucking Connor, learning what drove the other man crazy. Connor was impatient, arrogant, cocky. Knowing just how to move and handle Connor, ripping out obscene noises and eager touches not only drove Oliver crazy, but it was just fun to do. Watching this confident man become completely transparent and undone before him gave Oliver assurance that Connor really did like and trust him.

But Oliver kept the pace maddeningly lazy, almost giving in a few times, managing to keep it together with the view of Connor’s shaking body and his impatient babbling. Oliver moved and even touched Connor with a softness that contrasted to their heavy gasps and erotic whines. The ministrations built up and up and finally Connor gave Oliver his best glare, heavily masked by pure lust.

Connor pushed his hips up just as Oliver pulled back, connecting them fast and hard abruptly, making Oliver cuss and leave one hand to grab onto Connor’s hip to still it, the other fastened hard onto his thigh.

“Thought you wanted it slow?” Oliver tried to tease, his labored breathing giving him away.

“You are… _nng_ , tormenting me.”

God Connor was a sight. Hair in his face, unkempt and damp from the sweat, cheeks red from arousal, his cock aching and leaking. Oliver couldn’t let it go… but knew he needed to stop this soon, as much as he enjoyed the view, his own cock throbbed uncomfortably inside Connor, needing _more_ , harder, _faster_.

Fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, Oliver snapped his hips forward without warning, tearing a high pitched cry from Connor as his prostate was hit.

“Again, please!”

Oliver was happy to oblige, his confidence soaring as he managed to make Connor beg after all. His hand on Connor’s hip, originally placed to keep his from moving, grabbed on, encouraging Connor to grind down onto Oliver as he thrust forward, getting deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Oliver grunted, slipping his hand from Connor’s hip down his thigh and hoisting it up over his other shoulder, delighted how the heels of Connor’s feet dug into his back as he bridged himself over the youth once more, getting himself balls deep in his boyfriend and bringing them face-to-face.

“Look at me, Connor.” Oliver demanded, his voice broken. He slowed up his pace, rolling his hips hard enough to still cause Connor’s ass to shake.

Connor opened his eyes, meeting Oliver’s with an unashamed openness on a fucked out face. Oliver let a hand slip down his neck, tracing the sweat down his chest and stomach, before grabbing onto his cock to watch how Connor’s jaw dropped, brows high and unguarded, eyes dark and focused on Oliver, only Oliver.

“H-harder.” Connor pleaded, his hands moving from his sides to Oliver’s face, keeping him forward.

Oliver picked up the pace again while squeezing his fist around Connor, pumping it in synchrony with his sharp thrusts, ramming into Connor with a primal instinct that nearly made him lose it. And he got to see how every movement, every touch, every intentional shift reflected on Connor’s face.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Connor.”

Connor let out a short breath, his eyes misty.

Oliver felt himself unwinding. He was so close he could barely think. His forehead touched Connor’s as their bodies moved together, Oliver snapping his hips forward just as Connor raised his to meet them, grunting and breathing loudly and just _being_ with each other.

“Tell me I’m yours, Oliver.” Connor’s voice was low, soft, breathless.

“You’re mine,” Oliver rasped. He watched Connor’s face as he came in his fist, moaning and his eyes finally closing as Oliver captured his mouth ravenously.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

Oliver emptied himself into Connor right after, fucking into it, feeling it fill Connor and slicking his cock up even more.

And they kissed through it, Connor’s hands now around Oliver’s neck, ankles crossed around his back, just holding and keeping Oliver immeasurably close, leaving nothing untouched.

Oliver slowed his penetrations once more, keeping it easy and steady as his cock softened inside Connor, working now his mouth over Connor’s. Licking and biting and damn near growling, as if continuing to have sex through their kiss.

Connor’s legs slipped from Oliver’s shoulders to around his hips, letting himself be sandwiched between the mattress and Oliver’s hot body, sweat and spunk making their front’s slippery and tantalizing.

Though breathing was difficult… even through their noses. Coming down from their sexual exertion only to cement their mouths together, kissing like they needed each other’s oxygen to survive, made Oliver’s lungs burn. He could only imagine how Connor was fairing, pinned beneath him.

He finally pulled back, lifting himself on his forearms and feeling a twinge of guilt at the loud, deep inhale Connor took.

And then Oliver went back in, though with less aggression and keeping his body off of Connor’s.

Connor moaned in his mouth, scratching his nails down Oliver’s back. Oliver felt the smile on his lips as he arched into the lines Connor made.

“I could get addicted to this,” Connor panted, a pleased smile gracing his lips.

“I think I already am.” Oliver gently pulled out of Connor, loving the “ _mm_ …” sound he made before flopping on his side.

Connor was in his arms before Oliver could even think to pull him back in. It made his heart thud painfully in pure endearment.

“Now you’re turning into a cuddle whore.”

“Shut up,” Connor mumbled into Oliver’s neck, exhausted.  
  
They laid still for a while, listening to one another breathe, Oliver combing his fingers through Connor’s hair.

“Don’t fall asleep, you gotta get cleaned up.” Oliver warned.

Connor groaned. “I can’t.”

“You must.”

Connor shook his head, snuggling further into Oliver’s chest. “Not yet.”

Sighing, Oliver resigned. He allowed himself to relax, listening to Connor’s breathing even out until it was soft and steady.

“You know,” Oliver started, voice soft. “When I first met you, I was amping myself up to just use you for your body.”

Connor laughed, pulling his head back to look at Oliver.

“Honestly, same here. Totally thought I was gonna whisk you off your feet and you’d let me do whatever I wanted, just like every other guy.”

Connor looked down, touching Oliver’s chest, painting invisible lines on it.

“But instead we started talking and… you never obsessed over my body, or called me hot.” Connor inhaled sharply, like being honest with himself was difficult.

“You always just… wanted to get to know me and talk to me… and the way you flirted—I don’t know it wasn’t heavy or gross, it was sweet.”

Oliver pushed Connor’s hair out of his face, watching how his eyes studied his neck, avoiding his gaze. Oliver wanted to ask how that was not normal… what kind of guys did Connor associate himself with? Was he always looking for something more, deep down, without knowing?

“I guess it’s weird, saying all that out loud.”

“No, it’s good.” Oliver insisted, taking Connor’s hand. “I like talking to you, hearing you be honest. It makes me happy.”

Connor’s eyes lifted to meet Oliver’s.

“You can tell me anything, Connor. I want to hear it.”

“… I’m not used to people liking me.” Connor’s voice sounded gruff, scratchy.

“You are an enigma,” Oliver said lightly, biting back what he really wanted to say.

“But I’m also so enamored by you. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I feel something with you.”

Connor smiled, but with a sarcastic edge, like he couldn’t quite believe that.

“Okay, too sappy.”

And just like that the wall was back up. Oliver frowned, watching Connor turn and get off the bed, headed towards the bathroom.

Oliver sighed as he watched Connor leave. Frustrated that, even with Connor finally admitting his feelings and letting his guard down during sex, he was still that lone fighter that treated trust like an unstable bridge.

Following suit, Oliver slipped on a clean pair of underwear and yanked the blankets and sheets off his bed, rolling it all into a ball and tossing it with a little more force than necessary into his hamper before finding clean linens in the closet.

 

The next morning found Oliver alone.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, blearily looking around for Connor.

Then he smelled bacon.

“Connor?”

A crash of something being dropped, followed by a cuss made Oliver’s ears perk.

“Don’t get up!”

“Are you destroying my kitchen?” Oliver yelled back, but staying in bed as requested.

Connor didn’t respond. Oliver yawned, stretching out and nabbing his glasses, ready to run out of the room the moment he smelled smoke.

A few agonizing minutes later, Oliver looked up from playing games on his phone to watch Connor enter the room with a large plate of food and a full glass of orange juice.

“Um…” Oliver sat up better, taking the offering from Connor and setting the juice on the bed side table.

“This could be so much better if you had a TV tray…” Connor mumbled, pulling a fork out of his _pocket_ and presenting it to Oliver.

Oliver stared at the fork, then at Connor, before taking the utensil and looking down at his gift: pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

“Oh! Syrup!” Connor dashed away.

Oliver heard his cabinet doors opening and closing as Connor searched for the syrup. Returning moments later to set the bottle next to the juice.

“What’s all this?” Oliver smiled, the nervous look on Connor’s face amusing him and breaking through the morning sleep fog.

“What does it look like? It’s breakfast in bed.” Connor stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets. “It’s sweet, like boyfriends do, right?”

Oliver looked back at the plate of food, closing his lips to hide how wide his smile was stretching.

“You made me breakfast.”

He could _hear_ Connor’s eye roll.

“I figured you’d like this romantic…shit so…” Connor shrugged.

Oliver put a hand up like _yeah and don’t ruin it._

“Thank you, Connor.” Oliver popped a strip of bacon in his mouth, sighing with satisfaction.

“Good?”

Oliver grinned, finally attacking his food. “Yes, very. Why don’t you join me?”

Connor did, and they silently ate in bed together, like last night didn’t happen. Like they didn’t have the best sex of Oliver’s life and start having a serious talk.

Oliver didn’t dwell on it. He was still riding the high of Connor asking to be boyfriends.

“Have you checked you phone?”

Connor shook his head. “No, but I found your charger and plugged it in. It was about to die.”

“I never called my mom back, guess your dad said something.”

Connor hummed, finishing his last bite and taking Oliver’s empty plate, hopping off the bed with them.

Oliver followed, and remembered suddenly that it was Sunday. Connor had to leave today.

An alert on Connor’s phone went off from across the room. After depositing the dishes in the sink, Connor went to it wordlessly, picking it up and reading something.

His face slowly morphed into a stunned smile.

“I… got into Columbia.”

“What?” The awkward feelings of last night vanished as Oliver walked up to Connor, reading the email over his shoulder.

_Dear Mr. Walsh,_

_Welcome to Columbia University! It is with greatest enthusiasm to congratulate you on your admission to the class of 2022! …_

“Connor!” Oliver slipped his arms around Connor’s waist, bringing him back in a hug. “That’s awesome! You’re going to New York!”

“Yeah.” Connor sounded breathless, reading the email all the way to the bottom. He turned to face Oliver, catching onto his exuberant smile.

Oliver kissed him.

“I knew you’d get in.”

“Mm…” Connor nodded, looking back down to his phone.

Oliver’s smile faded. Connor looked happy, a tiny grin on his lips, but his eyes looked… lost.

“What is it?”

Connor brought his head back up. The small smile was still there, but it was twisting as he looked to the ceiling.

“This is too much. I’m going to college, finally…” He knocked his head back down, dragging a hand through his hair, looking past Oliver. “But now I don’t want to leave you.”

Oliver’s heart skipped a beat. His hands moved to Connor’s shoulders.

“You won’t leave me. New York is closer to here than Pennsylvania is.”

“But it’s still far.” Connor sighed, dropping his phone back on the table. “I just got you, I don’t want to go.”

Oliver’s hands were still outstretched as Connor walked out of the embrace, collapsing onto the couch silently and bringing a throw pillow into his arms.

Sighing, Oliver rubbed his bare arms, making his way to Connor and sitting next to him.

“You don’t think we could make it work?”

“I don’t know…” Connor took a sideways glance at Oliver and away, grinning.

“It’s hard to think clearly when all you have on is underwear and glasses.”

Oliver laughed.

“Sorry I’m so distracting.” He leaned over and kissed the side of Connor’s head. “I’ll put some clothes on.”

Connor grabbed his wrist as Oliver stood up.

“Or…” Connor trailed off suggestively, pulling Oliver down. “We can keep our winning streak going. I can get naked in two seconds.”

“I know you can,” Oliver said, smiling at Connor’s persistence. “Maybe after we talk?”

Connor sighed through his nose, glaring playfully at Oliver as he slipped out of Connor’s hold, walking around him and yelping in surprise as his ass was slapped.

Oliver never really thought about what would happen if he and Connor became official. Sure he thought about it in terms of his family… but for some reason the thought never occurred to him that Connor would be starting college soon, where he’d have the freedom to be openly gay… and surrounded by eligible men.

That thought stopped Oliver cold. He never thought about it because, as much as he liked Connor, he’d always assumed, at the back of his head, that this was just a fling between them. He’d always had feelings for Connor but Oliver was used to falling for people too fast and getting disappointed. He only knew Connor for a month and they _just_ decided to be official. Connor just put himself in an awkward position by announcing it suddenly… Oliver wondered if that was how he really felt, or if he was getting caught up in Oliver’s emotions.

His brows furled as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater.

“Back.” Oliver flopped back next to Connor, who looked him up and down.

“Well, at least you kept the glasses on.”

“I know; my very presence is turning you on.” Oliver said sarcastically, fixing said glasses.

Connor smirked, placing a hand between them and leaning in.

“Glad you’re finally catching on.”

Oliver shook his head, clearing it, wiping the grin off his face and letting his thoughts invade his mind again. The unwanted reality of Connor going to a school far away and finding someone better, more suited for his needs and wants. Obviously Oliver didn’t want that, but it was bound to happen. Not that Connor would cheat on him, but that he’d be holding Connor back.

They only connected now because of their religious upbringing, their families and the struggle of coming out. Did they really have anything in common? Sure the sex was unbelievable, and they liked hanging out with each other… but with no shared hobbies, Connor would get bored of him.

A wave of depression came over Oliver, making him look away.

“So, I know starting college with a boyfriend is rough, relationships fresh out of high school never last, statistically.”

Connor snapped to life, the urge to distract and lure Oliver back to bed gone.

“Wait, what?”

Oliver wrung his hands out.

“I don’t want to hold you back. College is a whole new ball game, you’re gonna meet so many people and potential—“

“Where is this coming from—Jesus Oliver that’s not what I’m upset about.” Connor interrupted, turning on the spot to face Oliver better. “I’m not trying to break up with you when I just got you.”

“Even if you weren’t, it’s a good idea to be casual, not get our hopes up or anything…” Even as Oliver spoke though, he felt his heart breaking.

“Ollie, stop.” Connor put a hand over Oliver’s. “That’s not why I don’t want to go. I’m hesitating cos I’ll… miss you.”

Oliver didn’t look up from his lap, so he missed the honesty in Connor’s eyes.

“You wouldn’t miss me if we weren’t exclusive. You should go to college, Connor. Not just for your education but to start a life of your own, outside of your crazy home life.”

“Which you are not a part of.” Connor insisted, squeezing Oliver’s hand. “You are the start of this new life. It’s crazy but I know you’re the one for me, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before… I thought I felt it with Cole, but it wasn’t this. This is real.”

Oliver peeked over at the mention of Cole, watching the broken, discouraged look all over Connor’s face.

“You’re too young to be saying stuff like that, you’ve never even left Pennsylvania.”

“Stop saying how young I am.” Connor snapped, taking his hand away. “I may still be in high school but I know what I want. You’re bringing yourself down and it’s not cool.”

Oliver fell silent, swallowing hard and turning away from Connor, who groaned.

“What do you want, Oliver?” His voice had an edge that startled Oliver. “Do you want me or not?”

Oliver turned, gaping at Connor. “I- I want you. But—“

“Then stop this low self-esteem bullshit. Of course I’ve thought about all the dick I’m gonna get in college. All the guys that are gonna look at me and maybe check banging a college professor off my bucket list but that all vanished when I came to see you.”

Oliver swallowed thickly, his eyes burning. Thinking all that and Connor saying it slammed a nail in the proverbial coffin.

“You say this now—“

Oliver was silenced as Connor lunged forward, grabbing Oliver’s face and landing a harsh kiss on his open mouth. His hands were immediately on Connor’s chest, trying to push him off but Connor took his hands, pushing them to the back of the couch as he forced himself over Oliver, swinging a leg over his lap and resuming the kiss.

“Connor,” Oliver gasped, his hands barely fighting back as Connor’s tongue invaded his mouth, silencing him.

Connor coaxed a moan out of Oliver, his hands released and finding better purchase around Connor’s back, pulling him in and kissing back fiercely.

“Don’t you trust me?” Connor spoke heavily into Oliver’s mouth, teeth clicking together.

“It’s not that—“ Oliver was cut off again, his words muffled. Connor’s hands were on his face again, fingers greedily pressing into his hair, tilting his head back as the kiss deepened impossibly, his hips rolling down on Oliver’s lap.

“I damn near fucking love you and you’re worried I’m gonna sleep with some random guy when I have all of this waiting for me here?”

Oliver’s eyes snapped open, finding Connor staring down at him, watching him, fierce and determined.

Like a switch was flicked, Oliver’s hands were on Connor’s sweats, pulling them down and pleased how Connor stood for a second to pull them off before he was back on him, pulling Oliver’s sweater away like it offended him and attacked his mouth once more, tearing an animalistic grumble from Oliver’s throat.

They had sex right there, Oliver’s jeans open just enough for his cock to slip out and Connor riding him like his life depended on it. No lube, raw, up and down thrusting that Oliver knew Connor would regret later but Connor’s last words echoed in his brain, channeling through his whole body, encouraging him to buck his hips each time Connor came down, faster and faster, tearing cries of pain and pleasure from him that echoed off the walls like music.

It wasn’t the outcome Oliver thought this day would lead to, right before Connor had to go back, face his father, live with the man who thought Connor was a blemish, a stain in his perfect little God fearing world. The talk they’d had wouldn’t leave Oliver alone, though he shut himself up for Connor’s sake. Pretended it was fine, and managed somehow to convince Connor to finish school, graduate, and get the fuck out.

Oliver washed Connor’s clothes for him, for the drive back. He stood with Connor outside his car, pressing him against the door and kissing him for what he knew would be the last time in a long while.

“You can come see me between now and graduation,” Oliver panted, unwilling to let Connor go just yet.

“I know. I will, when I can afford it.”

They kissed again, slower, memorizing each other’s sounds and tastes, how Connor’s fingers felt against his chest and how Connor arched into his front, hard and firm yet warm and docile.

“You know, Connor…” Oliver pulled back, his lips brushing Connor’s. “I damn near love you too.”

Connor smirked, brown eyes sparkling with mischief and adoration.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do universities send acceptance emails too? I haven’t received an acceptance letter in a long time so I can’t remember… I’m gonna say they do because why wouldn’t they send emails too, in this Internet age. Yay!
> 
> Also, I'm going on another hiatus. I'm very sorry but a lot of real life stuff is going on right now and I need to put 100% of my focus into it. I hope you understand! And thank you all so much for reading and staying with this story! You know I never had an ending planned until I started writing again? Haha you didn't know did you!
> 
> <3


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